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ANECDOTA  LITERAMA. 


TWO   HUNDRED   AND    FIFTY  COPIES    ONLY  OF   THIS   WORK 
PRINTED. 


ANECDOTA  LITERARIA; 


A     COLLECTION    OF 


SHORT  POEMS 

IN    ENGLISH,     LATIN,    AND    FRENCH, 


ILLUSTRATIVE    OF    THE 

LITERATURE  AND  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND  IN 
THE  THIRTEENTH  CENTURY, 

AND    MORE    ESPECIALLY    OF    THE 

CONDITION   AND   MANNERS    OF    THE    DIFFERENT    CLASSES 
OF    SOCIETY. 


EDITED  FROM  MANUSCRIPTS  AT  OXFORD,  LONDON,    PARIS,  AND  BERNE, 

BY  THOMAS  WRIGHT,  Esa    M.A.,  F  S.A.,  HoN.M.R.S.L.,  &c. 

Corresponding  Member  of  the  Institute  of  France  (Academie  des  Inscriptions  et 
Belles-Lettres.) 


LONDON: 
JOHN  RUSSELL  SMITH, 

No.  4,  OLD  COMPTON  STREET,  SOHO  SQUARE. 

PARIS,  CHARLES  BORRANI,  No.  7,  RUE  DES  SAINTS-PERES. 
BERLIN,  A.  ASHER. 

M.DCCC.XLIV. 


TO 

HENRY  HALLAM,  ESQ.  F.R.S.,  V.P.S.A.  &c. 

Foreign  Associate  of  the  Institute  of  France  (Academic  des  Sciences  morales 
et  politiques.) 


DEAR  SIR, 

THE  following  pieces  have  been  collected 
in  part  during  a  favourite  study,  that  of  the  intel 
lectual  and  moral  character  of  society  in  the  middle 
ages  as  exhibited  in  its  lighter  literature,  a  rich 
and  abundant  field  of  research.  I  beg  the  per 
mission  of  dedicating  my  little  volume  to  you, 
not  only  as  a  testimony  of  personal  respect  and 
esteem,  but  as  a  very  feeble  mark  of  my  admira 
tion  of  your  writings,  which  have  conduced  more 
than  any  others  to  the  improved  historical  taste 
which  now  prevails  in  England.  Perhaps  I  may 
also  be  led  by  an  interested  feeling;  for  I  can 
hope  from  your  deep  knowledge  of  the  social 
history  of  the  middle  ages  for  an  indulgent  appre 
ciation  of  scraps  which,  bearing  upon  minute 
points,  may  appear  to  many  to  be  hardly  worth 
the  trouble  of  collecting. 

These  pieces  were  assembled  with  a  view  to 
two  particular  objects ;  one,  the  social  history 
of  the  middle  ages,  the  other,  the  history  of  the 
transmission  of  popular  fiction.  I  was  led  to 
insert  a  few  inedited  fabliaux,  by  the  accidental 
discovery  of  one  which  appears  to  be  the  imme 
diate  original  of  one  of  Chaucer's  tales,  which  I 
have  therefore  chosen  for  the  purpose  of  showing 


VI. 


how  much  remains  to  be  done  to  produce  even  a 
tolerable  text  of  Chaucer's  works.  The  history  of 
fiction  is  best  illustrated  by  collecting  the  different 
forms  of  one  tale  in  their  chronological  order. 
Although  the  tale  of  the  Miller  and  the  Two  Clerks 
is  an  unfavourable  example  in  some  respects,  yet 
it  is  curious  from  the  circumstance  of  its  having 
appeared  under  two  forms  in  the  thirteenth  cen 
tury,  each  of  which  became  the  head  of  a  separate 
branch  continued  distinct  down  to  the  seventeenth 
century :  one  branch  is  represented  by  the  tales 
here  printed,  the  French  fabliau,  the  Miller  of 
Trompington,  and  the  Miller  of  Abington ;  the 
other  is  found  in  the  fabliau  of  Gombert,  in  the 
story  in  Boccaccio,  and  in  the  French  novelists 
down  to  Lafontaine.  The  English  fabliau  of 
Dame  Siriz  is  one  form  of  a  story  of  which  we 
can  trace  the  history  through  all  its  variations 
from  its  first  origin  in  the  farthest  East. 

Society  in  the  middle  ages  was  formed  of  dis 
cordant  materials.  It  exhibited  during  a  period  of 
its  history  somewhat  of  an  oriental  separation  of 
castes ;  and  each  class  regarded  the  others  with 
more  or  less  of  jealousy  and  hatred.  The  min 
strel  not  unfrequently  gratified  the  feelings  of 
the  caste  which  supported  him  by  satirising  the 
peasant,  or  the  burgher,  or  the  priest.  Many  of 
the  brief  metrical  pieces  in  which  these  satirical 
expressions  were  conveyed,  are  found  scattered 
through  old  manuscripts,  and  I  have  thought 


Vll. 

worthy  of  preservation  the  few  inedited  speci 
mens  I  have  met  with.  They  all  contain  in 
teresting  traits  of  the  social  manners  and  feelings 
of  the  age  in  which  they  were  written  ;  but  some 
of  them  could  not  with  propriety  be  published 
in  a  more  popular  form.  Society  in  the  middle 
ages  was  essentially  coarse  and  licentious  in  its 
character,  and  its  literary  monuments  naturally 
partake  largely  in  the  blot. 

I  have  added  to  these  a  few  pieces  of  a  more 
miscellaneous  character.  In  fact  the  present  col 
lection  was  made  without  any  distinct  plan,  or 
special  object.  It  may  be  looked  upon  as  a 
small  collection  of  private  Adversaria,  the  pro 
duct  of  some  desultory  reading  among  a  certain 
class  of  manuscripts.  A  few  hasty  notes  have 
been  added  in  the  hope  of  rendering  some 
passages  of  the  original  texts  more  intelligible 
to  the  general  reader. 

I  remain,  dear  Sir, 

Your  very  faithful  servant, 

THOMAS  WRIGHT. 


London,  Sept.  7,  1844. 


CONTENTS. 


SECTION  I. — FABLIAUX. 

PAGE 

1.     Dame  Siriz 2 

2.^.Ballade  a  Geoffroi  Chaucer,  par  Eustache  Deschamps  .     .13 

3.  The  Miller  and  the  Two  Clerks 15 

4.  The  Miller  of  Trumpington     .     .     , 24 

SECTION  II. — GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

5.  Fragments 38,  39 

6.  On  the  Pastoral  Staff 40 

7.  A  General  Satire 43 

8.  Poem  on  the  Scholastic  Studies 44 

9.  Satire  on  the  Men  of  Stockton 49 

SECTION  III. — POEMS  ON  THE  DIFFERENT  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

10.  On  the  Villans 53 

11.  Le  Dit  du  Vilain  Despensier 54 

12.  Le  Borjois  Borjon 57 

13.  The  Ribald's  Excommunication 60 

14.  Des  Putains  et  des  Lecheors 64 

15.  Des  Clers 66 

16.  The  Bishop  and  the  Priest 68 

SECTION  IV. — MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

17.  A  Game  of  Chance 76 

18.  Ragman  Roll 83 

19.  Song  by  Renaud  de  Hoilande 88 


X. 

20.  Song  on  the  uncertainty  of  Worldly  Affairs 90 

21.  Song  on  the  Times 92 

22.  Song  on  the  Vanities  of  the  Court 94 

23.  The  Wood-mans  Walke 95 

24.  English  Verses  on  Love 96 

25.  Poem  in  praise  of  Women » 97 

26.  The  Aged  Jogelour 100 

27.  An  anonymous  metrical  treatise  on  Geography  .     .     .     .101 

APPENDIX. 

28.  The  Miller  of  Abington      .     . 105 


v 


ANECDOTA  LITERARIA. 


SECTION  L— FABLIAUX. 

The  Fabliaux,  or  short  metrical  tales,  form  a  large  portion  of  the 
French  literature  of  the  thirteenth  century.  They  were  recited  by 
the  joculatoresj  jogelours,  or  wandering  minstrels,  to  amuse  the 
feudal  barons  and  knights  and  relieve  the  dulness  of  their  evenings. 
They  are  generally  stories  of  a  facetious  cast,  intended  to  make 
"  beards  wag,"  and  not  unfrequently  they  offer  the  most  undisguised 
obscenity,  yet  there  are  reasons  for  believing  that  they  were  often 
recited  in  the  presence  of  ladies  of  rank  and  education.  Such  how 
ever  was  the  coarseness  of  society  in  the  middle  ages.  The  character 
of  the  jogelour  was  apparently  borrowed  from  the  Arabs,  perhaps 
originally  through  the  Spanish  Moors ;  and  the  tales  which  he  told 

v  may  in  many  instances  be  distinctly  traced  to  Oriental  models.  This 
portion  of  the  history  of  medieval  fiction  presents  a  wide  and  pleasant 
field  of  research. 

The  number  of  French  fabliaux  found  in  English  manuscripts, 
many  of  them  containing  evidence  of  having  been  composed  in 
England,  shows  that  they  were  no  less  popular  in  our  island  than  on 
the  continent ;  yet  it  is  singular  that  we  should  have  so  few  instances 
of  English  translations.  This,  however,  may  be  accounted  for  in 
some  degree  by  the  very  great  destruction  of  early  English  popular1^, 
literature,  much  of  which,  existing  orally,  was  perhaps  never  com 
mitted  to  writing,  or  at  least  seldom  in  a  permanent  form.  The 
•a—  fabliau  of  Dame  Siriz,  which  I  print  for  the  first  time  entire,  is  the 

earliest  fragment  of  the  kind  now  known  to  exist  in  the  English        *    'p  g  ,^ 
language,  and  was  probably  composed  (or  rather  translated)   in  the 
latter  part  of  the  thirteenth  century.     The  only  manuscript  in  which 

**•  it  has  been  preserved  is  certainly  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I. 

There  is  no  story  in  which  we  can  trace  more  circumstantially  its 
progress  from  the  East  than  in  this  fabliau.  It  is  found  in  the  very 
ancient  Indian  collection  of  stories  entitled  Vrihat-Katha,  under-f- 
a  clearly  original  clothing.  Four  young  merchants  undertake  to 
seduce  a  virtuous  wife,  and  they  find  an  aged  priestess  of  Budha  who 
acts  the  part  of  the  '  dame  Siriz  '  of  our  English  fabliau :  a  part 
B 


2  FABLIAUX. 

which  seems  to  have  come  with  propriety  into  the  attributes  of  an 
Eastern  priestess.  She  visits  the  lady,  and  takes  with  her  a  little 
dog  to  which  she  has  given  some  highly  seasoned  meat.  The  lady, 
seeing  the  dog  in  tears  from  the  effects  of  the  pepper,  asks  the 
reason,  and  the  old  woman  tells  her  that  her  dog  is  deploring  the 
errors  of  its  past  life  ;  that  it  had  been  a  brahmin's  wife  who, 
during  the  absence  of  her  husband  on  a  voyage,  had  refused  to  en 
courage  the  advances  of  her  young  suitors,  and,  in  punishment  for 
having  thus  resisted  the  voice  of  nature,  after  her  death  she  had 
become  a  dog  (an  unclean  animal),  with  the  remembrance  of  the 
errors  of  her  former  life.  We  have  here  the  Indian  doctrine  of  the 
metempsychosis,  which  was  lost  when  the  story  passed  into  the 
languages  of  the  Persians  and  Arabs.  In  its  altered  form  the  story 

<  is  found  in  the  Oriental  collection  of  the  Seven  Vizirs,  and  in  the 
Greek  Svntipas.  It  made  its  first  appearance  in  the  West  in  the 

I  Disciplina  Clericalis  of  Peter  Alfonsi,  and  in  the  different  versions 
of  that  work,  whence  it  was  adopted  into  other  collections,  and 
became  exceedingly  popular  during  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth 
centuries.  The  English  version  here  printed  has  probably  been 
translated  from  a  French  fabliau,  although  I  am  not  aware  that  the 
original  now  exists.  A  fragment  of  an  English  interlocutory  poem, 
apparently  on  the  same  subject,  was  communicated  to  the  Reliquiae 
Antiquse,  vol.  i,  p.  145,  by  Sir  Frederic  Madden. 

An  analysis  of  the  fabliau  of  Dame  Siriz,  with  long  extracts 
(printed  and  explained  very  incorrectly)  was  given  by  Haslewood 
in  the  fourth  volume  of  the  British  Bibliographer. 

DAME  SIRIZ.   £< 

[Pn>m  MS.  Digby,  No.  86,  fol.  165,  in  the  Bodleian  Library.] 
Ci  commence  le  fables  et  le  cointise  de  dame  Siriz. 

As  I  com  by  an  waie, 
Hof  on  ich  herde  sale, 

Ful  modi  mon  and  proud ; 
Wis  he  wes  of  lore, 
And  gouthlich  under  gore, 

And  clothed  in  fair  sroud. 
To  lovien  he  begon 
On  wedded  wimmon, 

Therof  he  hevede  wrong  ; 
His  herte  hire  wes  alon, 
That  reste  nevede  he  non, 


DAME  SIRIZ. 

The  love  wes  so  strong. 
Wei  3erne  he  him  bi-thoute 
Hou  he  hire  gete  moute 

In  ani  cunnes  wise. 
That  befel  on  an  day, 
The  loverd  wend  away 

Hon  his  marchaundise. 
He  wente  him  to  then  inne 
Ther  hoe  wonede  inne, 

That  wes  riche  won  ; 
And  com  into  then  halle, 
Ther  hoe  wes  srud  with  palle, 

And  thus  he  bigon : — 
"  God  almi^tten  be  her-inne  !" 
"  Welcome,  so  ich  ever  bide  wenne," 

Quod  this  wif ; 

"  His  hit  thi  wille,  comme  and  site, 
And  wat  is  thi  wille  let  me  wite, 

Mi  leve  lif. 

Bi  houre  loverd,  hevene  king, 
If  I  mai  don  ani  thing 

That  the  is  lef, 
Thou  im^tt  finden  me  ful  fre, 
Fol  bletheli  willi  don  for  the, 

Withhouten  gref." 
"  Dame,  God  the  for^elde, 
Bote  on  that  thou  me  nout  bi-melde, 

Ne  make  the  wroth, 
Min  hernde  willi  to  the  bede ; 
Bote  wraththen  the  for  ani  dede 

Were  me  loth." 
"  Nai  i-wis,  Wilekin, 
For  nothing  that  ever  is  min, 

Thau  thou  hit  3irne ; 
Houncurteis  ne  willi  be, 
Ne  con  I  nout  on  vilte, 

Ne  nout  I  nelle  lerne. 
Thou  mait  saien  all  thine  wille, 
And  I  shal  herknen  and  sitten  stille, 

That  thou  have  told. 
And  if  that  thou  me  tellest  skil, 
I  shal  don  after  thi  wil, 

That  be  thou  bolde ; 
And  thau  thou  saie  me  ani  same, 


FABLIAUX. 

Ne  shal  I  the  nom^t  blame 

For  thi  sawe." 
"  Nou  ich  have  wonne  leve, 
3if  that  I  me  shulde  greve, 

Hit  were  hounlaw. 
Certes,  dame,  thou  seist  as  hende ; 
And  I  shall  setten  spel  on  ende, 

And  tellen  the  al, 
What  ich  wolde,  and  wi  ich  com, 
Ne  con  ich  saien  non  falsdom, 

Ne  non  I  ne  shal. 
Ich  habbe  i-loved  the  moni  361, 
Thau  ich  nabbe  nout  ben  her 

Mi  love  to  schowe. 
Wile  thi  loverd  is  in  toune, 
Ne  mai  no  man  with  the  holden  roune 

With  no  thewe. 
3ursten-dai  ich  herde  saie, 
As  ich  wende  bi  the  waie, 

Of  oure  sire  ; 

Me  tolde  me  that  he  was  gon 
*f  To  the  feire  of  Botolfston* 

In  Lincolneschire. 

And  for  ich  weste  that  he  ves  houte, 
Tharfore  ich  am  i-gon  aboute 

To  speken  with  the. 
Him  burth  to  liken  wel  his  lif, 
That  nn^tte  welde  sett  a  vif 


*  Boston  in  Lincolnshire,  formerly  celebrated  for  its  great  fair,  of  the 
importance  of  which  in  the  thirteenth  century  some  idea  may  be  formed 
from  the  account  given  by  Thomas  of  Walsingham,  (Hist.  Angl.  p.  54)  of 
its  being  plundered  in  1289  by  a  party  of  armed  men. — "  Hoc  anno 
armiger  quidam  dictus  Robertus  Camerarius,  cum  suis  complicibus  vere 
daemoniacis,  tentoria  mercatorum  apud  Sanctum  Botulphum  et  merci- 
monia  incendens,  diffuso  igne  magnam  partem  villa3  et  ecclesiam  fratrum 
Prsedicatorum  cornbussit ;  in  diversis  nempe  villae  locis  ignern  apposuerunt 
ut  ipsi  liberius  possent  residua  spoliare.  Dmnque  mercatores  pro  mercibus 
suis  salvandis  et  extinguendo  igne  discurrerent,  per  dictum  armigerum  et 
suos  trucidantur.  Dicebatur  revera,  quod  tota  pecunia  Angliae  vix  restau- 
raret  damna  ibidem  facta;  currebant  namque  rivuli  argentei  et  aurei  et 
metallorum  fusilium  usque  in  mare."  On  fairs  in  England  in  the  middle 
ages,  see  Warton,  Hist.  Engl.  Poet.  vol.  ii,  p.  55,  (edit,  of  1840). 


, 


DAME  SIRIZ. 

In  privite. 

Dame,  if  hit  is  thi  wille, 
Both  dernelike  and  stille 

Ich  wille  the  love." 
"  That  woldi  don  for  non  thing, 
Bi  houre  Loverd,  hevene  king, 

That  ous  is  bove ! 

Ich  habe  mi  loverd  that  is  mi  spouse, 
That  maiden  broute  me  to  house 

Mid  menske  i-nou ; 
He  loveth  me  and  ich  him  wel, 
Oure  love  is  also  trewe  as  stel, 

Withhouten  wou. 

Than  he  be  from  horn  on  his  hernde, 
Ich  were  ounseli,  if  ich  lernede 

To  ben  on  hore. 
That  ne  shal  nevere  be, 
That  I  shal  don  selk  falsete, 

On  bedde  ne  on  flore. 
Never  more  his  lif  wile, 
Thau  he  were  an  hondred  mile 

Bi-^ende  Rome, 
For  no  thing  ne  shuld  I  take 
Mon  on  erthe  to  ben  mi  make, 

Ar  his  horn  come." 
"  Dame,  dame,  torn  thi  mod  : 
Thi  curteisi  wes  ever  god, 

And  $et  shal  be  ; 

For  the  Loverd  that  ous  haveth  wrout, 
Amend  thi  mod,  and  torn  thi  thout, 

And  rew  on  me." 
"  We,  we  !  oldest  thou  me  a  fol. 
So  ich  ever  mote  biden  30!, 

Thou  art  ounwis. 

Mi  thout  ne  shalt  thou  newer  wende ; 
Mi  loverd  is  curteis  mon  and  hende, 

And  mon  of  pris ; 

And  ich  am  wif  bothe  god  and  trewe ; 
Trewer  womon  ne  mai  no  mon  cnowe 

Then  ich  am. 

Thilke  time  ne  shal  never  bi-tide, 
That  mon  for  wouing  ne  thoru  prude 

Shal  do  me  scham." 
"  Swete  lemmon,  merci! 


FABLIAUX. 

Same  ne  vilani 

Ne  bede  I  the  non  ; 
Bote  derne  love  I  the  bede, 
As  mon  that  wolde  of  love  spede, 

And  fide  won.J 

So  bide  ich  evere  mete  other  drinke, 
Her  thou  lesest  al  thi  swinke ; 
Thou  mi$t  gon  horn,  leve  brother, 
For  wille  ich  the  love,  ne  non  other, 
Bote  mi  wedde  houssebonde. 
To  tellen  hit  the  ne  wille  ich  wonde." 
"  Certes,  dame,  that  me  for-thinketh ; 
And  wo  is  the  mon  tha  muchel  swinketh, 
And  at  the  laste  leseth  his  sped ! 
To  maken  menis  his  him  ned. 
Bi  me  i  saie  ful  i-wis, 
That  love  the  love  that  I  shal  mis. 
An,  dame,  have  nou  godne  dai ! 
And  thilke  Loverd,  that  al  welde  mai, 
Leve  that  thi  thout  so  tourne, 
That  ihc  for  the  no  leng  ne  mourne." 
Dreri  mod  he  wente  awai, 
And  thoute  bothe  ni^t  and  dai 

Hire  al  for  to  wende. 
A  frend  him  radde  for  to  fare, 
And  leven  al  his  michele  kare, 
^To  dame  Siriz  the  hende. 
Thider  he  wente  him  anon, 
So  suithe  so  he  mi3tte  gon, 

No  mon  he  ni  mette. 
Ful  he  wes  of  tene  and  treie ; 
Mid  wordes  milde  and  eke  sleie 

Faire  he  hire  grette. 
"  God  the  i-blessi,  dame  Siriz  ! 
Ich  am  i-com  to  speken  the  wiz, 

For  ful  muchele  nede. 
And  ich  mai  have  help  of  the, 
Thou  shalt  have  that  thou  shalt  se 

Ful  riche  mede." 
"  Welcomen  art  thou,  leve  sone; 
And  if  ich  mai  other  cone 
In  eni  wise  for  the  do, 
I  shal  strengthen  me  ther-to  ; 
For-thi,  leve  sone,  tel  thou  me 


DAME  SIRIZ. 

What  thou  woldest  I  dude  for  the." 
"  Bote  leve  Nelde,  ful  evele  I  fare  ; 
I  lede  mi  lif  with  tene  and  kare  ; 
With  muchel  hounsele  ich  lede  mi  lif, 
And  that  is  for  on  suete  wif 

That  hei^tte  Margeri. 
Ich  have  i-loved  hire  moni  dai  ; 
And  of  hire  love  hoe  seith  me  nai : 

Hider  ich  com  for-thi. 
Bote  if  hoe  wende  hire  mod, 
For  serewe  mon  ich  wakese  wod, 

Other  miselve  quelle. 
Ich  hevede  i-thout  miself  to  slo  ; 
For  then  radde  a  frend  me  go 

To  the  rni  sereve  telle. 
He  saide  me,  withhouten  faille, 
That  thou  me  couthest  helpe  and  vaile, 

And  bringen  me  of  wo, 
Thoru  thine  crafftes  and  thine  dedes  ; 
And  ich  wile  ^eve  the  riche  mede, 

With  that  hit  be  so." 
"  Benedicite  be  herinne  ! 
Her  havest  thou,  sone,  mikel  senne. 
Loverd,  for  his  suete  nome, 
Lete  the  therfore  haven  no  shome ! 
Thou  servest  affter  Godes  grome, 
Wen  thou  seist  on  me  silk  blame. 
For  ich  am  old,  and  sek,  and  lame; 
Seknesse  haveth  maked  me  ful  tame. 
Blesse  the,  bless  the,  leve  knave  ! 
Leste  thou  mesaventer  have, 
For  this  lesing  that  is  founden 
Oppon  me,  that  am  harde  i-bonden. 
Ich  am  on  holi  wimon, 
On  witchecrafft  nout  I  ne  con, 
Bote  with  gode  men  almesdede 
like  dai  mi  lif  I  fede, 
And  bidde  mi  pater-noster  and  mi  crede, 
That  Goed  hem  helpe  at  hore  nede, 
That  helpen  me  mi  lif  to  lede, 
And  leve  that  hem  mote  wel  spede. 
His  lif  and  his  soule  worthe  i-shend, 
That  the  to  me  this  hernde  haveth  send  ; 
And  leve  me  to  ben  i-wreken 


FABLIAUX. 

On  him  this  shome  me  haveth  speken." 

"  Leve  Nelde,  bi-lef  al  this  ; 

Me  thinketh  that  thou  art  onwis. 

The  mon  that  me  to  the  taute, 

He  weste  that  thou  hous  touhest  saute. 

Help,  dame  Sirith,  if  thou  maut, 

To  make  me  with  the  sueting  saut, 

And  ich  wille  geve  the  gift  ful  stark, 

Moni  a  pound  and  moni  a  marke, 

Warme  pilche  and  warme  shon, 

With  that  min  hernde  be  wel  don. 

Of  muchel  godlec  mi^t  thou  ^elpe, 

If  hit  be  so  that  thou  me  helpe," 

"  Li3  me  nout,  Wilekin,  bi  thi  leute,* 

Is  hit  thi  hernest  thou  tehest  me  I 

Lovest  thou  wel  dame  Margeri  ?  " 

"  3e,  Nelde,  witerli  ; 

Ich  hire  love,  hit  mot  me  spille, 

Bote  ich  gete  hire  to  mi  wille." 

"  That,  god  Wilekin,  me  reweth  thi  scathe, 

Houre  Loverd  sende  the  help  rathe ! 

Weste  hie  hit  mi^tte  ben  for-holen, 

Me  wolde  thincke  wel  solen 

Thi  wille  for  to  fullen. 
Make  me  siker  with  word  on  honde, 
That  thou  wolt  helen,  and  I  wile  fonde 

If  ich  mai  hire  tellen. 
For  al  the  world  ne  woldi  nout 
That  ich  were  to  chapitre  i-brout, 

For  none  selke  werkes. 
Mi  jugement  were  sone  i-given, 
To  ben  with  shome  somer  driven, 

With  prestes  and  with  clarkes." 
"  I-wis,  Nelde,  ne  woldi 
That  thou  hevedest  vilani 

Ne  shame  for  mi  goed. 
Her  I  the  mi  trouthe  pli^tte, 
Ich  shal  helen  bi  mi  mi^tte, 

Bi  the  holi  roed  !  " 
"  Welcome,  Wilekin,  hiderward  ; 
Her  havest  i-maked  a  foreward 

That  the  mai  ful  wel  like. 

Haslewood  read  sente,  and  explained  it  salvation  ! 


DAME  SIRIZ. 

Thou  mai3t  blesse  thilke  sith, 
For  thou  mai^t  make  the  ful  blith  ; 

Dar  thou  namore  sike. 
To  geder  hele  ever  come  thou  hide[r], 
For  sone  willi  gange  thider, 

And  maken  hire  hounderstonde. 
I  shal  kenne  hire  sulke  a  lore  ; 
That  hoe  shal  lovien  the  mikel  more 

Then  ani  mon  in  londe." 
"  Al  so  havi  Godes  grith, 
Wei  havest  thou  said,  dame  Sirith, 

And  goder  hile  shal  ben  thin. 
Have  her  twenti  shiling, 
This  ich  $eve  the  to  meeting, 

To  buggen  the  sep  and  swin." 
"  So  ich  evere  brouke  hous  other  flet, 
Neren  never  penes  beter  biset, 

Then  thes  shulen  ben. 
For  I  shal  don  a  juperti, 
And  a  ferli  rnaistri, 

That  thou  shalt  ful  wel  sen. — 
Pepis  nou  shalt  thou  eten, 
This  mustart  shal  ben  thi  mete, 

And  gar  thin  eien  to  rene  : 
I  shal  make  a  lesing 
Of  thin  heie  renning, 

Ich  wot  wel  wer  and  wenne." 
"  Wat !  nou  const  thou  no  god  1 
Me  thinketh  that  thou  art  wod  : 
3evest  tho  the  welpe  mustard  1 " 
"  Be  stille,  boinard  ! 
I  shal  mit  this  ilke  gin 
Gar  hire  love  to  ben  al  thin. 
Ne  shal  ich  never  have  reste  ne  ro, 
Til  ich  have  told  hou  thou  shalt  do. 
Abid  me  her  til  min  horn  come." 
"  3us,  bi  the  somer  blome, 
Hethen  nulli  ben  bi-nomen, 
Til  thou  be  a^einxomen." 
Dame  Sirith  bigon  to  go, 
As  a  wrecche  that  is  wo, 
That  hoe  come  hire  to  then  inne, 
Ther  this  gode  wif  wes  inne. 
Tho  hoe  to  the  dore  com, 


10  FABLIAUX. 

Swithe  reuliche  hoe  bigon  : 

"  Loverd,"  hoe  seith,  "  wo  is  holde  wives, 

That  in  poverte  ledeth  ay  lives ; 

Not  no  mon  so  muchel  of  pine 

As  povre  wif  that  falleth  in  ansine. 

That  mai  ilke  mon  bi  me  wite, 

For  mai  I  nouther  gange  ne  site. 

Ded  woldi  ben  ful  fain, 

Hounger  and  thurst  me  haveth  nei  slain  ; 

Ich  ne  mai  mine  limes  on  wold, 

For  mikel  hounger  and  thurst  and  cold. 

War-to  liveth  selke  a  wrecche  1 

Wi  mil  Goed  mi  soule  fecche  ]  " 

"  Seli  wif,  God  the  hounbinde  ! 

To  dai  wille  I  the  mete  finde  ! 

For  love  of  Goed. 
Ich  have  reuthe  of  thi  wo, 
For  evele  i-clothed  I  se  the  go, 

And  evele  i-shoed. 
Com  herin,  ich  wile  the  fede." 
"  Goed  almi^tten  do  the  mede, 
And  the  loverd  that  wes  on  rode  i-don, 
And  faste  fourti  daus  to  non, 
And  hevene  and  erthe  haveth  to  welde." 
"  As  thilke  Loverd  the  for^elde, 
Have  her  fles  and  eke  bred, 
And  make  the  glad,  hit  is  mi  red  ; 
And  have  her  the  coppe  with  the  drinke ; 
Goed  mede  the  for  thi  swinke." 
Thenne  spac  that  olde  wif, 
Crist  awarie  hire  lif ! 
"  Alas  !  alas !  that  ever  I  live ! 
Al  the  sinne  ich  wolde  for-give 
The  mon  that  smite  off  min  heved : 
Ich  wolde  mi  lif  me  were  bi-reved  !" 
"  Seli  wif,  what  eilleth  the!" 
"  Bote  ethe  mai  I  sori  be  : 
Ich  hevede  a  douter  feir  and  fre, 
Feirer  ne  n^tte  no  mon  se  ; 
Hoe  hevede  a  curteis  hossebonde, 
Freour  mon  mi3tte  no  mon  fonde. 
Mi  douter  lovede  him  al  to  wel ; 
For-thi  mak  I  sori  del. 
Oppon  a  dai  he  was  oute  wend, 


DAME  SIRIZ.  11 

And  thar-forn  wes  mi  douter  shend. 

He  hede  on  ernde  out  of  toune  : 

And  com  a  modi  clarc  with  croune, 

To  mi  douter  his  love  beed, 

And  hoe  nolde  nout  folewe  his  red. 

He  ne  nr^tte  his  wille  have, 

For  nothing  he  mi3tte  crave. 

Thenne  bi-gon  the  clerc  to  wiche, 

And  shop  mi  douter  til  a  biche. 

This  is  mi  douter  that  ich  of  speke  : 

For  del  of  hire  min  herte  breke. 

Loke  hou  hire  heien  greten, 

On  hire  cheken  the  teres  meten. 

For-thi,  dame,  were  hit  no  wonder, 

Thah  min  herte  burste  assunder. 

And  wose  hever  is  3ong  houssewif, 

Ha  loveth  ful  luitel  hire  lif, 

An  eni  clerc  of  love  hire  bede, 

Bote  hoe  graunte  and  lete  him  spede." 

"  A!  Loverd  Crist,  wat  mai  thenne  do! 

This  enderdai  com  a  clarc  me  to, 

And  bed  me  love  on  his  manere, 

And  ich  him  nolde  nout  i-here. 

Ich  trouue  he  wolle  me  for-sape. 

Hou  troustu,  Nelde,  ich  moue  ascape  1" 

"  God  almi^tten  be  thin  help, 

That  thou  ne  be  nouther  bicche  ne  welp  ! 

Leve  dame,  if  eni  clerc 

Bedeth  the  that  love  were, 

Ich  rede  that  thou  graunte  his  bone, 

And  bi-com  his  lefmon  sone. 

And  if  that  thou  so  ne  dost, 

A  worse  red  thou  ounderfost." 

"  Loverd  Crist,  that  me  is  wo, 

That  the  clarc  me  hede  fro, 

Ar  he  me  hevede  bi-wonne  ! 
Me  were  levere  then  ani  fe 
That  he  hevede  enes  leien  bi  me, 

And  efFtsones  bi-gunne. 
Evermore,  Nelde,  ich  wille  be  thin, 
With  that  thou  feche  me  Willekin, 

The  clarc  of  warn  I  telle. 
Giftes  willi  give  the, 
That  thou  mai^t  ever  the  betere  be, 


12  FABLIAUX. 

Bi  Godes  hoime  belle !" 
"  Sothliche,  mi  swete  dame, 
And  if  I  mai  withhoute  blame, 

Fain  ich  wille  fonde ; 
And  if  ich  mai  with  him  mete, 
Bi  eni  wei  other  bi  strete, 

Nout  me  willi  wende. 
Have  god  dai,  dame  !  forth  willi  go." 
"  Allegate  loke  that  thou  do  so 

As  ich  the  bad  ; 

Bote  that  thou  me  Wilekin  bringe, 
Ne  mai  never  lawe  ne  singe, 

Ne  be  glad." 
"  I-wis,  dame,  if  I  mai, 
Ich  wille  bringen  him  $et  to  dai, 

Bi  mine  mijUe." 
Hoe  wente  hire  to  "hire  inne, 
Her  hoe  founde  Wilekinne, 

Bi  houre  Dri3tte ! 

"  Swete  Wilekin,  be  thou  nout  dred, 
For  of  thin  her[n]de  ich  have  wel  sped, 
S  withe  com  for  thider  with  me ; 
For  hoe  haveth  send  affter  the. 
I-wis  nou  mai^t  thou  ben  above, 
For  thou  havest  grauntise  of  hire  love." 
"  God  the  for-^elde,  leve  Nelde, 
That  hevene  and  erthe  haveth  to  welde !" 
This  modi  mon  bJjf on  to  gon 
With  Siriz  to  his  levemon 

In  thilke  stounde. 
Dame  Siriz  bigon  to  telle, 
And  swor  bi  Godes  ouene  belle, 

Hoe  hevede  him  founde. 
"  Dame,  so  have  ich  Wilekin  sout, 
For  nou  have  ich  him  i-brout." 

"  Welcome,  Wilekin,  swete  thing, 
Thou  art  welcomore  then  the  king. 
Wilekin  the  swete, 
Mi  love  I  the  bi-hete, 

To  don  al  thine  wille. 
Turnd  ich  have  mi  thout, 
For  I  ne  wolde  nout 

That  thou  the  shuldest  spille." 
"  Dame,  so  ich  evere  bide  noen, 


DAME  SIRIZ.  13 

And  ich  am  redi  and  i-boen 

To  don  al  that  thou  sale. 
Nelde,  par  mafai  ! 
Thoa  most  gange  awai, 

Wile  ich  and  hoe  shulen  plaie." 
"  Goddot  so  I  wille  : 
And  loke  that  thou  hire  tille, 

And  strek  out  hire  thes. 
God  3eve  the  muchel  hare, 
3eif  that  thou  hire  spare, 

The  wile  thou  hire  bes. 
And  wose  is  onwis, 
And  for  non  pris 

Ne  con  geten  his  levemon, 
I  shal,  for  mi  mede, 
Garen  him  to  spede, 

For  ful  wel  I  con." 

Explicit. 

After  the  fabliau  of  Dame  Siriz,  we  can  scarcely  point  out  a 
regular  English  fabliau  till  the  time  of  Chaucer,  who  entered  more 
than  any  other  old  English  writer  into  the  spirit  of  the  French 
originals.  Many  of  the  stories  in  the  Canterbury  Tales  are  transla 
tions  from  French  fabliaux.  It  is  singular  that  a  poet  of  so  much 
talent  as  Chaucer  should  have  written  scarcely  a  single  original 
poem.  I  owe  to  the  friendly  communication  of  M.  Paulin  Paris,  of 
the  Bibliotheque  Royale  at  Paris,  the  copy  of  the  following  stanzas 
addressed  to  Chaucer  by  his  friend  and  contemporary,  the  French 
poet  Eustache  Deschamps.  They  furnish  a  curious  memorial  of  our 
great  poet's  literary  connections,  and  are  remarkable  as  stating  so 
strongly  his  real  character  of  a  "  great  translator."  I  have  already 
commuicated  this  little  poem  to  the  Life  of  Chaucer  by  Sir  Harris 
Nicolas,  who  however  has  not  printed  it  quite  correctly. 

>£  BALLADE    A    GEOFFROI    CHAUCER,    PAR    EUSTACHE 
DESCHAMPS. 

[From  the  Bibliotheque  Royale,  MS.  7219,  fol.  62,  r°.] 

O  Socrates,  plains  de  philosophic, 
Seneque  en  meurs  et  angles  en  pratique, 
Ovides  grans  en  ta  poeterie, 
Bries  en  parler,  saiges  en  rethorique, 
Aigles  tres  haultz,  qui  par  ta  theorique 
Enlumines  le  regne  d'Eneas, 


14  FABLIAUX. 

«-*  L'isle  aux  geans,  ceulx  de  Bruth,  et  qui  as 

Seme  les  fleurs  et  plante  le  rosier 

Aux  ignorans  de  la  langue  Pandras ; 
y. Grant  translateur,  noble  Geffroy  Chaucier. 

Tu  es  d'amours  mondains  dieux,  en  Albie, 
Et  de  la  rose,  en  la  terre  angelique, 
Qui  d'Angels  Saxonne  est  puis  fleurie  ; 
Angleterre  d'elle  ce  nom  s'applique, 
Le  derrenier  en  1'ethimologique, 
En  bon  Angles  le  livre  translatas  : 
Et  un  vergier  ou  du  plant  demandas 
De  ceuls  qui  font  pour  eulx  auctoriser, 
N'a  pas  long  temps  que  tu  edifias, 
Grant  translateur,  noble  Geffroy  Chaucier. 

A  toy  pour  ce,  de  la  fontaine  Helye 
Requier  avoir  un  ouvrage  autentique, 
Dont  la  doys*  est  du  tout  en  ta  baillie, 
Pour  refrener  d'elle  ma  soif  ethique  : 
Qu'en  ma  Gaule  serai  paralitique 
Jusques  a  ce  que  tu  m'abuveras. 
Eustace  sui,  qui  de  mon  plans  aras  ; 
Mais  prens  en  gre  les  euvres  d'escolier 
—•  Que,  par  Clifford,  de  moy  avoir  pourras, 
Grant  translateur,  noble  Gieffroi  Chaucier. 

L' envoy, 

Poete  hault,  loenge  destinye, 
En  ton  jardin  ne  seroie  qu'ortie; 
Considere  ce  que  j 'ay  dit  premier, 
Ton  noble  plan,  ta  douce  melodic ; 
Mais  pour  scavoir,  de  rescrire  te  prie, 
Grant  translateur,  noble  Geffroy  Chaucier. 

Eustache  Deschamps  intimates  that  Chaucer's  aim  was  to  be 
understood  by  those  who  were  ignorant  of  the  French  language, 
and  in  fact  nearly  all  his  poems  are  translated  from  the  French.  It 
has  been  supposed  that  he  took  some  of  his  stories  from  Boccaccio, 
which  I  always  doubted,  and  I  have  discovered  in  the  following 
French  fabliau  an  additional  proof  to  the  contrary.  It  shows  also 
that  our  poet  added  less  to  the  incidents  of  his  originals  than  has 
been  imagined.  The  collection  of  Boccaccio  was  itself  chiefly 
compiled  from  older  fabliaux.  The  subject  of  the  following  piece 

*  The  source  or  fountain. 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  CLERKS.  15 

appears  among  the  early  French  fabliaux  under  two  different  forms. 
One  of  these,  which  seems  to  have  been  that  most  generally  known,  was 
written  by  a  poet  named  Jean  de  Boves  and  is  printed  in  the  collection 
of  Barbazan  (vol.  iii.  p.  238)  under  the  title  of  De  Gombert  et  des 
deux  clers.  The  tale  passed  thence  into  the  Decameron  of  Boccaccio, 
where  it  forms  the  sixth  novel  of  the  ninth  day.  This  form  of  the 
story  was  frequently  reproduced  in  the  story  and  jest  books  which 
formed  so  large  a  class  of  the  popular  literature  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries  :  and  it  was  taken  directly  from  Boccaccio  by 
Lafontaine  in  his  conte  entitled  Le  Berceau.  Tyrwhitt  supposed 
Chaucer  to  have  borrowed  from  this  fabliau,  or  from  Boccaccio,  and 
it  has  been  considered  as  an  instance  of  the  happy  manner  in  which 
he  added  to  and  diversified  his  originals.  The  tale  in  this  form  was 
a  mere  licentious  love  adventure,  utterly  without  moral. 

The  other  form  is  only  known  in  the  fabliau  now  printed,  and  in 
Chaucer's  tale  of  the  Miller  of  Trompington,  which  was  undoubtedly 
taken  from  it.  We  have  here  (with  slight  variation)  the  incident  of 
the  visit  of  the  two  clerks  to  the  miller,  which  was  supposed  to  have 
been  invented  by  Chaucer.  It  is  a  much  better  story  than  the  other, 
and  ends  so  far  in  a  moral  denouement,  that  the  treacherous  over 
reaching  miller  is  signally  punished  at  the  moment  when  he  imagines 
himself  sure  of  his  prey.  The  effect  of  the  story  was  heightened  by 
the  circumstance  that  in  the  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth 
centuries,  millers  were  proverbial  for  their  thievishness  and  cunning," 
and  were  on  that  account  much  disliked  by  society  in  general.  In 
numerable  instances  of  this  feeling  may  be  gleaned  from  the  writers 
of  that  period. 

The  following  fabliau  is,  as  far  as  I  have  ascertained,  preserved 
only  in  the  remarkable  manuscript  of  the  library  of  Berne,  No.  354, 
described  by  M.  Jubinal  in  his  Lettre  au  Directeur  de  V  Artiste,  Paris, 
1838,  where  it  occurs  as  an  anonymous  production,  without  title. 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  TWO  CLERKS, 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  164,  v<>.] 

Dili  povre  clerc  furent  jadis, 
Ne  d'une  vile  et  d'un  pais ; 
Conpeignon  et  diacre  estoient 
En  un  boschage,  o  il  menoient, 
O  il  orent  este  norri, 
Tant  c'uns  chier  tans  lor  i  sailli, 
Con  il  fait  moult  tost  et  sovant ; 


16  FABLIAUX. 

C'est  domage  a  la  povre  gent. 

Li  clerc  virent  la  mesestance ; 

Si  en  orent  au  cuer  pesance, 

Ne  il  ne  sevent  conseiJlier, 

Car  il  ne  sevent  rien  gaaignier, 

N'en  lor  pais,  n'en  autre  terre ; 

Honte  auroient  de  lor  pain  querre, 

Tant  por  lor  hordre,  et  tant  por  el. 

II  n'avoient  point  de  chatel 

Don  se  poissent  sostenir, 

Ne  il  ne  sevent  ou  ganchir. 

Un  diemanche,  apres  mangier, 

Sont  ale  devant  lo  mostier  ; 

Iluec  se  sont  entretrove, 

Puis  s'en  sont  de  la  vile  ale, 

Por  dire  un  po  de  lor  secroi. 

Li  uns  dist  a  1'autre,  "  Antan  moi ; 

Nos  ne  nos  savons  conseiller, 

Car  ne  savon  rien  gaaignier, 

Et  voiz  la  fain  qui  nos  destraint, 

C'est  une  chose  qui  tot  vaint ; 

Nus  ne  se  puet  de  li  deffandre, 

Ne  nos  n'avon  rien  nule  o  prandre  : 

As-tu  nule  rien  porveu 

Par  quoi  nos  soions  maintenu  1" 

L'autre  respont,  "  Par  saint  Denise, 

Je  ne  te  sai  faire  devise, 

Mais  que  j'ai  un  mien  ami, 

Je  lo  que  nos  aillon  vers  li, 

Por  prandre  un  setier  de  fromant, 

A  la  vante  que  Tan  lo  vant ; 

Et  il  m'an  querra  les  deniers 

Moult  longuemant,  et  volantiers, 

Jusq'a  la  feste  saint  Johan, 

Por  nos  giter  de  cest  mal  an." 

Li  autres  a  lors  respondu, 

"  II  nos  est  tres  bien  avenu ; 

Car  j'ai  un  mien  frere  ensemant, 

Qui  a  une  grasse  jumant ; 

Je  la  prandrai,  pran  lo  setier, 

Et  si  devandron  bolangier ; 

L'an  doit  tote  honte  endosser 

Por  soi  de  cest  mal  an  giter." 

Ensi  lo  font,  plus  n'i  atant, 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  CLERKS.  17 

Ail  molin  portent  lor  fromant : 

Li  molins  si  loin  lor  estoit, 

Plus  de  .ij,  liues  i  avoit; 

C 'estoit  lo  molin  a  choisel, 

Si  seoit  joste  un  bocheel  : 

II  n'ot  ilueques  environ, 

Borde,  ne  vile,  ne  maison, 

Fors  sol  la  maison  au  munier, 

Qui  trop  savoit  de  son  mestier. 

Li  clerc  ont  tost  1'uis  desferme, 

Si  ont  lo  sac  dedanz  gite : 

Apres  ont  mis  en  un  prael 

La  jumant,  joste  lo  choisel. 

Li  uns  remest  por  tot  garder, 

L'autre  ala  lo  munier  haster, 

Que  il  les  venist  avancier  ; 

Mais  il  s'an  fu  ale  mucier, 

Bien  ot  les  clers  veu  venir, 

Je  cuit  a  aux  voldra  partir. 

Chies  lo  munier  en  vient  corant, 

La  dame  a  trovee  filant : 

"  Dame,"  fait-il,  "  por  saint  Martin, 

O  est  li  sires  do  molin  ] 

Bien  fust  que  il  nos  avancast." 

"  Sire  clers,  point  ne  m'an  pesast ; 

En  ce  bois  lo  porroiz  trover, 

Se  il  vos  i  plaist  a  aler, 

Qui  est  ci  joste  ce  molin." 

Et  li  clers  se  mest  au  chemin, 

Querre  lo  vait  moult  vistemant. 

A  son  conpeignon  qui  1'atant 

Poise  moult  qu'il  demore  tant : 

En  la  maison  en  vient  corant : 

"  Dame,"  fait-il,  "  por  amor  De, 

O  est  mon  conpeignon  ale  1  " 

"  Sire,  si  aie  je  hanor, 

II  en  vait  querre  mon  seignor, 

Qui  orandroit  issi  la  hors." 

Ele  ot  bien  ce  mestier  a  mort. 

L'un  des  clers  apres  1'autre  envoie, 

Et  li  muniers  aquiaut  sa  voie, 

Si  vien  au  molin  auramant, 

Lo  sac  lieve  sor  la  jumant, 

O  sa  fame  qui  li  aida, 


18  FABLIAUX. 

En  sa  maison  tot  enporta  : 

Tant  a  en  sa  maison  mucie, 

Puis  est  au  molin  repairie  ; 

Et  li  clerc  ont  tant  chemine 

Qu'il  sont  au  molin  torne  : 

"  Munier,"   font-il,  "  Dex  soit  a  vos, 

For  amor  Deu,  avanciez  nos." 

"  Seignor,"  fait-il,  "  et  je  de  quoi  1  " 

"  De  nostre  ble  qu'est  ci,  par  foi." 

Qant  durent  prandre  lo  fromant, 

Ne  trovent  ne  sac  ne  jumant. 

Lun  d'ax  a  1'autre  regarde  : 

"  Q'est-ice  1  somes-nos  robe  1  " 

"  Oil,"  fait  ce  Puns,  "  ce  m'est  vis  : 

Pechiez  nos  a  a  essil  mis." 

Chacuns  escrie,  ' '  Halas  !  halas  ! 

Secorez  nos,  saint  Nicolas  !  " 

Fait  li  muniers,  "  Qu  'est-ce  c'avez  1 

Por  quoi  si  duremant  criez  ]  " 

"  Munier,  ja  avon  tot  perdu ; 

Malemant  nos  est  avenu, 

Car  n'avon  ne  jumant  ne  el. 

Tot  i  estoit  nostre  chatel." 

"  Seignor,"  fait-il,  "  n'en  sai  noiant." 

"  Sire,"  font-il,  "  ne  vos  apant 

Fors  tant  que  de  nos  asener 

Quel  part  nos  poissiens  aler 

Querre  et  tracier  nostre  domage." 

"  Seignor,"  fait-il,  "  en  cest  bochage  : 

Ne  vos  sai-je  pas  conseillier ; 

Mais  en  eel  bois  alez  cerchier, 

Qui  ci  est  joste  cest  molin." 

Li  clerc  se  mestent  au  chemin, 

Maintenant  sont  el  bois  entre, 

Et  li  muniers  s'an  est  ale. 

Li  uns  clers  a  1'autre  parla : 

"  Certes,"  font-il,  "  voir  dit  i  a, 

Fox  est  qui  en  vain  se  travaille  ; 

Avoir  vient  et  va  conme  paille, 

Alons  nos  hui  mais  herbergier." 

"  Nos  ]  en  quel  leu  1  "  "  Chies  lo  munier, 

O  nos  alon  en  eel  molin, 

Dex  nos  doint  1'ostel  saint  Martin  !  " 

Errant  vindrent  chies  lo  munier  ; 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  CLERKS.  19 

Lor  venir  n'avoit-il  point  chier, 

Ainz  lor  demande  anes  lo  pas  : 

"  Que  vos  a  fait  saint  Nicolas  1  " 

"  Munier,"  font-il,  "  ne  un  ne  el." 

"  Or  gaaigniez  autre  chatel, 

Car  de  cest  estes  vos  trop  loin. 

Ne  1'auroiz  pas  a  cest  besoing." 

<l  Munier,"  font-il,  "  ce  puet  bien  estre  : 

Herbergiez  nos,  por  saint  Servestre, 

Ne  savon  mais  hui  o  aler." 

Et  li  rnuniers  prant  a  panser, 

Or  seroit-il  pires  que  chiens, 

S'il  ne  lor  faisoit  aucun  bien 

Del  lor,  car  il  lo  puet  bien  faire. 

"  Seignor,"  fait-il,  "  ni  fors  1'aire, 

Ice  auroiz,  se  plus  n'avez." 

"  Munier,"  font-il,  "  ce  est  assez." 

Li  vilains  n'ot  pas  grant  cointie, 

II  n'ot  que  soi  cart  de  maisnie, 

Sa  file,  q'an  doit  metre  avant, 

Sa  fame,  et  un  petit  enfant. 

La  fille  estoit  et  bele  et  cointe, 

Et  li  muniers,  qu'el  ne  fust  pointe, 

En  une  huche  la  metoit, 

Chascune  nuit,  o  el  gisoit, 

Et  1'anfermoit  par  desus, 

Et  li  bailloit,  par  un  pertius, 

La  clef,  et  puis  s'aloit  cochier. 

A  noz  clers  devons  repairier  : 

La  nuit,  quant  ce  vint  au  soper, 

Li  muniers  lor  fait  aporter 

Pain  et  lait,  et  eves,  et  fromage  ; 

C'est  la  viande  del  bochage. 

Aus  .ij.  clers  assez  en  dona ; 

L'um  o  la  pucele  manja, 

L'autre  o  la  dame  et  lo  munier. 

En  1'artre  ot  un  petit  andier, 

O  il  avoit  un  anelet, 

Que  Fan  oste  sovant  et  met. 

Cil  q'o  la  pucele  manja 

De  1'andier  1'anelet  osta ; 

Bien  1'a  et  repost  et  mucie. 

La  nuit  quant  il  furent  cochie, 

Li  clers  de  li  grant  garde  prist ; 


20  FABLIAUX. 

Bien  vit  que  li  muniers  li  fist ; 
Con  en  la  huche  la  bouta, 
Et  par  dedesus  1'anferma  ; 
Con  il  li  a  la  clef  bailliee, 
Par  un  pertuis  li  a  lanciee. 
Qant  il  furent  aseure 
II  a  son  conpaignon  boute  : 
"  Conpainz",  fait-il,  "  je  voil  aler 
A  la  fille  au  munier  parler, 
Qui  est  en  la  huche  enfermee." 
"  Viax-tu,"  fait-il  "  faire  mellee, 
Et  estormir  ceste  maison  1 
Verite  est,  tu  ies  bricon, 
Tost  nos  en  porroit  mal  venir." 
"  Je  ne  voldroie  por  morir, 
Que  je  n'aille  a  li  savoir 
S'el  me  porroit  de  rien  valoir." 
A  la  huche  vient  erraumant, 
Un  petit  grate,  et  el  1'antant : 
"  Q'est-ce,"  fait-ele,  "  la  defers  ? " 
"  C'est  celui  qui  por  vostre  cors 
Est  si  destroiz  et  mal  bailli, 
Se  vos  n'avez  de  lui  merci, 
Jamais  nul  jor  joie  n'aura. 
C'est  celui  qui  o  vos  manja, 
Qui  vos  aporte  un  enel  d'or, 
Onques  n'austes  tel  tresor ; 
Bien  est  esprove  et  sau 
Que  la  pierre  en  a  tel  vertu, 
Que  ja  fame,  tant  soit  legere, 
Ne  tant  par  ait  este  corsiere  ; 
Qui  chaste  et  pucele  ne  soit, 
S'au  matin  en  son  doi  Pavoit. 
Tenez,  ge  P  vos  en  fas  presant." 
Errant  cele  la  clef  li  tant, 
Et  il  desferme  errant  la  huche, 
Dedanz  se  met,  ele  s'acluche  ; 
Or  puent  faire  lor  deduit, 
Car  ne  trovent  qui  lor  anuit. 
La  fame  o  munier,  ainz  lo  jor 
Se  leva  d'enpres  son  seignor ; 
Tote  nue  vait  en  la  cort. 
Par  devant  lo  lit  trescort 
Au  clerc,  qui  en  Paire  gisoit. 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  CLERKS.  21 

Li  clers  au  trespasser  la  voit  ; 
Qant  il  la  vit,  si  1'esgarda, 
De  son  conpaignon  li  manbra, 
Qui  en  la  huche  fait  ses  buens, 
Moult  convoite  faire  les  suens  ; 
Pansa  que  il  la  decevroit 
Au  revenir,  se  il  pooit : 
Puis  repansoit  no  feroit  mie, 
Tost  en  porroit  sordre  folie. 
Un  autre  angin  li  est  creuz  : 
S'anpres  est  de  son  lit  chauz, 
A  1'autre  lit  s'an  va  tot  droit, 
La  o  li  muniers  se  gisoit, 
L'anfant  a  tot  lo  briez  aporte, 
Et  qant  la  dame  entre  en  la  porte 
Li  clers  tire  a  1'anfant  1'oroille, 
Et  1'enfes  crie,  si  s'esvoille  : 
Cele  ala  a  son  lit  tot  droit 
Qant  ele  oit  o  cil  estoit ; 
Puis  est  erraumant  retornee  ; 
Au  cri  de  1'anfant  est  alee ; 
Lo  briez  trove  don  s'aseure, 
Puis  solieve  la  coverture, 
De  joste  lo  clerc  s'est  cochiee, 
Et  cil  l'a  estroit  enbraciee ; 
Vers  soi  la  trait,  formant  1'acole, 
A  son  deduit  tote  Pafole ; 
Si  sofre  tot,  si  se  mervoille. 
Et  1'autres  clers  si  s'aparoille, 
Qant  il  oit  lo  coc  chanter  ; 
Car  il  cuidoit  trop  demorer. 
De  la  huche  s'an  est  issuz, 
Puis  est  droit  a  son  lit  venuz, 
Lo  briez  trove,  si  s'esbaist ; 
N'est  pas  mervoille  s'il  lo  fist. 
II  ot  peor,  et  ne  porqant 
Un  petit  est  alez  avant, 
Et  qant  .ij.  testes  a  trovees, 
Erraumant  les  a  refusees. 
A  1'autre  lit,  o  se  gisoit 
Li  muniers,  s'an  va  cil  tot  droit ; 
De  joste  li  s'estoit  cochiez, 
Ne  s'est  pas  encor  esveilliez, 
Ne  ne  s'est  mie  aparceuz. 


22  FABLIAUX. 

"  Conpainz,"  fait  li  clers,  "  que  fais-tu  ? 

Qui  tozjorz  se  tait  rien  ne  valt ; 

Or  sai-je  bien,  se  Dex  me  salt, 

Que  j'ai  eii  boene  nuitiee. 

Moult  est  la  pucele  envoisiee, 

La  fille  a  cest  nostre  murder, 

Moult  par  si  fait  mal  anvoisier, 

Et  si  fait  trop  bon  foutre  en  huche. 

Conpeignon,  car  va,  si  t'i  muce, 

Et  si  pran  do  bacon  ta  part ; 

Assez  en  a  jusq'a  la  hart; 

Par  .vij.  foiz  1'ai  anuit  corbee, 

Des  or  sera  boene  1'asnee, 

El  n'a  fors  1'anel  de  1'andier ; 

Si  ai  je  bien  fait  mon  mestier." 

Qant  li  muniers  entant  la  bole, 

Tantost  prant  lo  clerc  par  la  gole  ; 

Et  li  clers  lui  qui  s'apercoit, 

Tantost  le  met  en  si  mal  ploit 

A  po  li  fait  lo  cuer  criever. 

Et  la  dame  aquialt  a  boter 

L'autre  clerc,  qui  o  lui  gisoit. 

"  Sire,"  fait-ele,  "  ce  que  doit 

Serviax,  car  nos  levon  tost  sus, 

Ja  s'estranglent  cil  clerc  laissus." 

"  Ne  te  chaut,"  fait-il,  "  lor  ester, 

Lai  les  musarz  entretuer." 

II  savoit  bien,  si  n'ot  pas  tort, 

Que  ses  conpainz  ere  plus  fors. 

Qant  li  muniers  pot  eschaper, 

Tantost  cort  lo  feu  alumer  ; 

Et  qant  il  sa  fame  aparcoit, 

Qui  avoc  lo  clerc  se  gisoit  : 

"  Or  sus,"  fait-il,  "  pute  provee, 

Qui  vos  a  ici  amenee  ] 

Certes  il  est  de  vos  tot  fait." 

"  Sire,"  fait-ele.  "  autremant  vait, 

Car  se  je  suis  pute  provee, 

Par  engin  i  sui  atornee ; 

Mais  vos  estes  larron  prove, 

Qui  en  cez  clers  avez  emble 

Lor  sac  de  ble  et  lor  jumant, 

Don  vos  seroiz  levez  au  vant. 

Tot  est  en  vostre  granche  mis." 


THE  MILLER  AND  THE  CLERKS.  23 

Li  dui  clerc  ont  lo  vilain  pris, 
Tant  Font  fole  et  debatu, 
Par  po  qu'il  ne  Font  tot  nolu, 
Puis  vont  modre  a  autre  molin. 
II  orent  1'ostel  saint  Martin, 
Et  ont  tant  lor  mestier  mene 
Q'il  se  sont  do  mal  an  gite. 

For  the  purpose  of  facilitating  comparison,  I  give  here  Chaucer's 
version  of  this  story,  and  I  take  the  occasion  of  saying  a  word  or 
two  on  the  text  of  our  great  national  poet.  It  is  truly  to  be  lamented 
that  a  text  of  Chaucer  so  utterly  corrupt  as  that  of  Tyrwhitt  should 
continue  to  be  reprinted.  Tyrwhitt  fell  into  the  error  of  attempting 
to  make  up  a  text  of  an  author,  when  he  was  totally  ignorant  of  the 
grammatical  construction  of  his  language,  and  equally  incompetent 
to  appreciate  the  comparative  value  of  the  manuscripts.  The  con 
sequence  is  that  there  is  not  perhaps  a  single  line  in  Tyrwhitt's 
edition  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  which  Chaucer  could  possibly  have 
written.  The  very  worst  manuscript  in  existence  contains  a  better 
text,  because  it  is  at  least  grammatically  correct  for  the  time  in 
which  it  was  written,  whereas  in  Tyrwhitt  all  grammar  is  set  at 
defiance.  As  an  instance  of  this  I  will  merely  state  that  in  the 
preterites  of  what  the  modern  Teutonic  philologists  term  the  strong 
verbs,  Tyrwhitt  has  invariably  placed  a  verb  in  the  plural  with  a 
noun  in  the  singular.  Instances  of  this  (in  the  verbs  to  bear,  sing, 
bar,  pi.  bare  ;  to  come,  s.  cam,  pi.  come  ;  to  swear,  s.  swor,  pi.  swore  ; 
to  give,  s.  gaf,  pi.  gave;  to  speak,  s.  spak,  pi.  spake,  spoke;  to  rise, 
s.  ros,  roos,  pi.  rose;  to  take,  s.  took,  pi.  toke,  &c.)  occur  in  almost 
every  line.  In  the  verb  to  set,  whose  pret.  s.  and  pi.  was  sette,  he 
has  substituted  set,  a  form  which  did  not  exist ;  and  in  the  same 
manner  in  the  verb  to  creep,  he  has  given  pret.  s.  crept,  when  the 
forms  were,  s.  creep,  crope,  pi.  crope.  In  a  similar  manner  Tyrwhitt 
has  in  most  cases  substituted  the  plural  of  adjectives  for  the  singular, 
and  the  inflected  cases  of  nouns  for  the  nominative,  besides  an 
infinity  of  errors  in  the  forms  of  the  language.  I  will  only  add  that 
the  Essay  on  the  Versification  of  Chaucer  which  accompanies 
Tyrwhitt's  edition  is  a  mass  of  confusion.  Of  course  we  ought  to 
make  great  allowances  for  the  low  state  of  this  branch  of  philology 
in  Tyrwhitt's  time ;  but  I  feel  the  necessity  of  speaking  plainly  of 
the  character  of  his  text  of  Chaucer,  because  it  is  still  too  generally 
received  as  a  correct  one. 

It  is  not,  however,  my  intention  on  the  present  occasion  to  enter 
further  into  this  subject.  I  have  merely  printed  the  following  text 
from  what  appears  to  me  by  comparison  to  be  the  best  manuscript  in 


24  FABLIAUX. 

the  British  Museum  (MS.  Harl.  No.  7334).  In  the  notes  I  have 
given  some  of  the  principal  variations  of  Tyrwhitt's  text :  and  I  have 
also  collated  it  with  two  other  manuscripts  in  the  British  Museum, 
MS.  Lansdowne,  No.  861  (a)  and  MS.  Harl.  No.  1758  (b).  In 
almost  every  one  of  these  variations,  Tyrwhitt  is  wrong. 

THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON. 

[From  MS.  Harl.  No.  7334,  fol.  52,  v°.] 

Tlie  Reeves  Tale. 

At  Trompyngtoun  nat  fer  fro  Cantebrigge, 
Ther  goth  a  brook,  and  over  that  a  brigge; 
Upon  the  whiche  brook  ther  stant  a  melle: 
And  this  is  verray  soth  that  I  3011  telle. 
A  meller  was  ther  dwellyng  many  a  day, 
As  eny  pecok  he  was  prowd  and  gay  ; 
Pipen  he  coude,  and  fisshe,  and  nettys  beete, 
And  turne  cuppes,  wrastle  wel,  and  scheete. 
Ay  by  his  belt  he  bar  a  long  panade, 
10     And  of  a  swerd  ful  trerichaunt  was  the  blade  ; 
A  joly  popper  bar  he  in  his  pouche  ; 
Ther  was  no  man  for  perel  durst  him  touche. 
**-  A  Scheffeld  thwitel  bar  he  in  his  hose. 

Round  was  his  face,  and  camois  was  his  nose  ; 

As  pyled  as  an  ape  was  his  skulle. 

He  was  a  market  beter  at  the  fulle. 

Ther  durste  no  wight  hand  upon  him  legge, 

That  he  ne  swor  anon  he  schuld  abegge. 

4.  sothe,  Tyr.  6.  peacok,  Tyr.  which  is  a  mere  modern  orthography. 
proude,  Tyr.,  a.,  b.  9.  bare,  Tyr.  a.  b.  Tyrwhitt  reads  pavade,  I 
think  wrongly. — In  old  French  a  panart  was  a  kind  of  two-edged 
knife  (see  the  word  in  Roquefort),  which  signification  agrees  very 
well  with  the  passage  in  Chaucer.  11.  bare,  Tyr.  Tyrwhitt  has 
here  a  strange  note  that  a  popper  is  a  "  fitter  name  "  for  a  pistol.  He 
seems  to  have  overlooked  the  circumstance  that  a  little  further  on 
(1.  40)  this  "joly  popper"  is  identified  with  a  loydekin,  orbodekin. 
This  word  signifies  a  dagger.  Our  author  in  another  place,  speaking 
of  the  murder  of  Julius  Caesar,  Cant.  T.  1469,  says, — 

And  cast  the  place  in  which  he  shulde  die, 

With  bodekins,  as  I  shal  you  devise. 

13.  bare,  Tyr.  15,  16.  sJcull,  full,  Tyr.  a  double  I.  (as  well  as  the 
grammatical  construction  in  the  present  case)  requires  a  final  e. 
1 8.  swore  he  shuld  anon  abegge.  Tyr. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  25 

A  theef  he  was  for  soth  of  corn  and  mele, 
20     And  that  a  sleigh  and  usyng  for  to  stele. 
His  name  was  hoote  deynous  Symekyn; 
A  wyf  he  hadde  come  of  noble  kyn  ; 
The  persoun  of  the  toun  hir  fader  was, 
With  hire  he  $af  ful  many  a  panne  of  bras, 
For  that  Symkyn  schuld  in  his  blood  allye. 
— -  Sche  was  i-fostryd  in  a  nonnerye  ; 

For  Symkyn  wolde  no  wyf,  as  he  sayde, 
But  sche  were  wel  i-norissched  and  a  mayde, 
To  saven  his  estaat  and  ^omanrye. 
30     And  sche  was  proud  and  pert  as  is  a  pye. 
A  ful  fair  sighte  was  ther  on  hem  two  ; 
On  haly  dayes  bifore  hir  wolde  he  go, 
With  his  typet  y-bounde  aboute  his  heed  ; 
And  sche  cam  aftir  in  a  gyte  of  reed, 
And  Symkyn  hadde  hosen  of  the  same. 
—  Ther  durste  no  wight  clepe  hir  but  madame  : 
Was  noon  so  hardy  walkyng  by  the  weye, 
That  with  hir  dorste  rage,  or  elles  pleye, 
But  if  he  wold  be  slayn  of  Symekyn, 
40     With  panade,  or  with  knyf,  or  boydekyn  ; 
For  gelous  folk  ben  perilous  everemo, 
Algate  they  wolde  here  wyves  wende  so. 
And  eek  for  sche  was  somdel  smoterlich, 

19.  thefe,  Tyr.     20.  usant,  Tyr.  a,  b,  probably  a  better  reading  than 
the  one  in  the  text.    23.  hire,  Tyr.    31.  fair e  sight,  Tyr.  a.    32.  hire 
wold,  Tyr.    33.  about,  Tyr.  The  e  is  necessary — it  is  the  A.  s.  dbutan. 
34.  came,  Tyr.        36.  clepen  hire  but  dame,  Tyr.  Although  a  and  b 
agree  in  this  reading,  I  am  inclined  to  prefer  that  in  the  text.     The 
final  e  in  clepe  is  elided  before  the  h  of  the  following  word.     It  is 
an  invariable  rule  in  early  English  verse  that  the  final  e  is  not  sounded 
before  a  pure  vowel  or  a  vowel  preceded  by  the  aspirate  h.     At  the 
commencement  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,   Chaucer,  speaking  of  the 
nun,  who  also  prided  herself  upon  her  gentility,  says,  (Cant.  T.  1. 378), 
It  is  ful  fayre  to  ben  y-cleped  madame, 
And  for  to  gon  to  vigiles  al  before, 
And  have  a  mantel  reallich  y-bore. 
38.  hire,  Tyr.    To  rage  is  to  romp,  or  play  wantonly. 

on  a  day  this  bendy  Nicholas 

Fel  with  this  yonge  wif  to  rage  and  pley.  Cant.  T.  3272. 
It  is  observed  of  the  friar,  (Cant.  T.  259,)— 

And  rage  he  coude,  as  it  hadde  ben  a  whelp. 
41.  evermo,  Tyr.  42.  wold  hir,  Tyr. 

E 


26  FABLIAUX. 

Sche  was  as  deyne  as  water  in  a  dich, 

As  ful  of  hokir  and  of  bissemare ; 

Hir  thoughte  ladyes  oughten  hir  to  spare, 

What  for  hir  kynreed,  and  hir  nortelrye 

That  sche  had  lerned  in  the  nonnerye. 

O  doubter  hadden  they  betwix  hem  two, 
50     Of  xx.a  3eer,  withouten  eny  mo, 

Savyng  a  child  that  was  of  half  ^er  age, 

In  cradil  lay,  and  was  a  proper  page. 

This  wenche  thikke  and  wel  i-growen  was, 

With  camoys  nose,  and  ey3en  gray  as  glas, 

And  buttokkes  brode,  and  brestes  round  and  hye ; 

But  right  fair  was  hir  heer,  I  wol  nat  lye. 

The  persoun  of  the  toun,  for  sche  was  feir, 

In  purpos  was  to  inaken  hir  his  heir, 

Bothe  of  his  catel  and  his  mesuage, 
60     And  straunge  made  it  of  hir  manage. 

His  purpos  was  to  bystow  hir  hye 

Into  som  worthy  blood  of  ancetrye  ; 

For  holy  chirche  good  moot  be  despendid 

On  holy  chirche  blood  that  is  descendid, 

Therfore  he  wolde  his  joly  blood  honoure, 

Though  that  he  schulde  holy  chirche  devoure. 
Gret  soken  had  this  meller,  out  of  doute, 

With  whete  and  malt,  of  al  the  lond  aboute  ; 

Arid  namely  ther  was  a  gret  collegge, 
70X~Men  clepe  it  the  Soler  halle  of  Cantebregge, 
44.  digne,  Tyr.     45.  This  reading  appears  to  me  to  be  much  su 
perior  to  that  of  Tyrwhitt,  "  And  al  so  ful  of  hoker  and  of  bismare." 
46.  hire,  Tyr.  bis.    47.  hire,  Tyr.  bis.    50.  yere,  Tyr.    51.  yere,  Tyr. 
52.  in  cradle  it  lay ....  proper,  Tyr.    54.  Grey  appears  to  have  been 
the  favourite  colour  of  eyes  in  Chaucer's  time.     He  says  of  the  nun, 
(Cant.  T.  152.) — '  Hir  nose  tretis,  hire  eyengrey  as  glas.'    56.faire, 
Tyr.  hire  here,  Tyr.       57.  feire,  Tyr.       58.    hire  his  haire,  Tyr. 

59.  both,  Tyr.   the  adjective  form  instead   of  the  adverbial  form. 

60.  hire,  Tyr.       63.  mote,  Tyr.  mot,  a.       65.   holy  blood,  Tyr.  a,  b. 
68.  all,  Tyr. ;  the  correct  forms  are  sing,  al,  pi.  alle.  I  believe  that 
//  was  never  used  at  the  end  of  a  word  at  this  period  without  a 
final  vowel,  except  by  some  very  ignorant  scribe,  although  Tyrwhitt 
uses  it  so  constantly.     70.  There  was  a  tradition  in  the  University 
at  least  as  early  as  the  time  of  Caius,  and  it  may  perhaps  be  cor 
rect,  that  the  college  alluded  to  by  Chaucer  was  Clare  Hall.     See 
Caius,  Hist.  Acad.  p.  57,   and  Fuller's  Hist,  of  the  Univ.  of  Camb. 
ed.  1840,  p.  86.     Tyrwhitt's  note  on  this  passage  contains  several 
inaccuracies. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  27 

Ther  was  here  whete  and  eek  here  malt  i-grounde. 

And  on  a  day  it  happed  on  a  stounde, 

Syk  lay  the  mauncyple  on  a  maledye, 

Men  wenden  wisly  that  he  schulde  dye  ; 

For  which  this  metier  stal  bothe  mele  and  corn 

A  thousend  part  more  than  byforn  ; 

For  ther-biforn  he  stal  but  curteysly, 

But  now  he  is  a  theef  outrageously. 

For  which  the  wardeyn  chidde  and  made  fare; 
80     But  therof  sette  the  meller  not  a  tare, 

He  crakked  boost,  and  swor  it  was  nat  so. 

Thanne  weren  there  poore  scoleres  tuo, 

That  dwelten  in  the  halle  of  which  I  seye  ; 

Testy f  they  were  and  lusty  for  to  pleye, 

And,  oonly  for  here  mirthe  and  revelrye, 

Uppon  the  wardeyn  bysily  they  crye 

To  ^eve  hem  leve  but  a  litel  stounde 

To  go  to  melle  and  see  here  corn  i-grounde, 

And  hardily  they  dursten  ley  here  nekke 
90     The  meller  schuld  nat  stel[e]  hem  half  a  pekke 

Of  corn  by  sleighte,  ne  by  force  hem  reve, 

And  atte  last  the  wardeyn  3af  hem  leve. 

Johan  hight  that  oon,  and  Alayn  hight  that  other ; 
o  toun  were  they  born  that  highte  Strothir, 

Fer  in  the  north,  I  can  nat  telle  where. 

This  Aleyn  maketh  redy  al  his  gere, 

An  on  an  hors  the  sak  he  cast  anoon  ; 

Forth  goth  Aleyn  the  clerk,  and  also  Jon, 

With  good  swerd  arid  with  bocler  by  her  side. 
100  Johan  knew  the  way,  that  hem  needith  no  gyde ; 

71.  hir,  Tyr.  bis.  y-ground,  stound,  Tyr.  73.  sike,  Tyr.  75.  stale 
both,  Tyr.  80.  set,  Tyr.  81.  swore,  Tyr.  82.  Than  were  ther 
yonye  poure,  Tyr.  yonge  sc.  a,  b.  Tyrwhitt  appears  to  have  been  so 
undecided  which  reading  was  best,  yonge  or  povre,  that  he  inserted 
both.  85.  hir,  Tyr.  et  passim.  92.  yave,  Tyr.  93.  John  highte, 
Tyr.  The  correct  form  of  this  name  was  Johan,  the  a  being  generally 
indicated  by  a  dash  on  the  upper  limb  of  the  h.  In  the  manuscript 
from  which  the  text  is  here  printed  the  contraction  is  sometimes 
written  Johan,  as  at  line  164,  below.  John  is  a  more  modern  or 
thography.  In  our  text,  where  the  name  was  required  to  be  a 
monosyllable  (see  11.  98,  124,  171,  240,  278,)  it  is  spelt  Jon,  probably 
an  abbreviation  of  familiarity,  as  Tom,  and  the  like.  100.  him 
needed  not  no  guyde,  Tyr. 


28  FABLIAUX. 

And  at  the  mylle  the  sak  a-doun  he  layth. 
Alayn  spak  first,  "  Al  heil !   Symond,  in  faith, 
How  fares  thy  faire  doughter  and  thy  wyf  1 " 
"  Aleyn,  welcome !  "  quod  Symond,  "  by  my  lyf  ; 
And  Johan  also,  how  now  1  what  do  36  heere  !  " 
"  By  God ! "  quod  Johan,  "  Symond,  neede  has  na 

peere : 

Him  falles  serve  himself  that  has  na  swayn, 
Or  elles  he  is  a  fon,  as  clerkes  sayn. 
Oure  mancyple,  as  I  hope,  wil  be  deed, 

110  Swa  werkes  ay  the  wanges  in  his  heed  ; 
And  therfore  I  is  come,  and  eek  Aleyn, 
To  grynde  cure  corn,  and  carie  it  ham  ageyn. 
I  prey  ^ou  speed  us  in  al  that  36  may." 
"  It  schal  be  doon,"  quod  Symkyn,  "  by  my  fay! 
What  wol  36  do  whil  that  it  is  in  hande  ?  " 
"  By  God  !  right  by  the  hoper  wol  I  stande," 
Quod  Johan,  "  and  se  how  that  the  corn  gas  inne ; 
3et  sawh  I  never,  by  my  fader  kynne, 
How  that  the  hoper  waggis  to  and  fra." 

120  Aleyn  answerde,  "  Johan,  and  wiltow  swa  ] 
Than  wol  I  be  bynethe,  by  my  croun  ! 

102.  spake,  Tyr.  107.  behoves.  Tyr.  109.  our,  Tyr.  /  hope  he 
wol  be  ded,  Tyr.  112  To  grind  our  corn  and  cary  it  hame,  Tyr. 
The  infinitive  of  verbs  must  have  the  final  e,  or  the  more  perfect 
form  en:  grind,  and  cary  are  totally  inadmissible.  115,  hand,  stand, 
Tyr.  here  again  stand  is  not  admissible  as  the  infinitive  of  the  verb ; 
and  hand  is  equally  incorrect  in  the  objective  case  of  the  noun. 
117.  in,  Tyr.  in  is  the  preposition,  but  where  used  adverbially  with 
out  a  following  noun  it  must  be  inne,  the  A.  s.  innan.  The  recently 
published  part  of  the  Archseologia,  vol.  xxx,  p.  352,  furnishes  an 
instance  of  the  necessity  of  editors  of  old  texts  understanding  the 
grammar  of  the  language.  Two  lines,  which  stood  in  the  MS.  thus, — 
And  quan  it  is  al  cler  and  bryth, 
With  wolle  late  it  be  don  ther-inne, 
are  corrected  thus,  to  preserve  the  rhyme, — 

And  quan  it  is  al  bryth  and  cler, 
With  wolle  late  it  be  don  inne  ther. 

ther-inne  is  necessarily  the  right  reading ;  otherwise  it  would  be  in 
there,  and  I  do  not  think  this  phrase  is  ever  used  for  ther-inne  :  bryth 
is  an  error  of  the  scribe  for  some  word  like  thinne.  118.  Mn,  Tyr. 
kyn,  is  the  nominal.,  kynne,  the  objective  form  of  the  noun.  119. 
answered  ....  wolt  thow,  Tyr.  Tyrwhitt  has  a  very  erroneous  note 
on  the  word  answered. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  29 

And  se  how  that  the  mele  fallys  doun 

Into  the  trough,  that  schal  be  my  desport ; 

For,  Jon,  in  faith,  I  may  be  of  $our  sort, 

I  is  as  ille  a  meller  as  ere  36." 

This  mellere  smyleth  for  here  nycete, 

And  thought,  "  Al  this  is  doon  but  for  a  wyle  ; 

They  wenen  that  no  man  may  hem  bigile. 

But,  by  my  thrift,  $et  schal  I  blere  here  ye, 
130  For  al  here  sleight  and  al  here  philosophic  ; 

The  more  queynte  knakkes  that  they  make, 

The  more  wol  I  stele  whan  I  take  ; 

In  stede  of  mele  $et  wol  I  ^eve  hem  bren. 

The  grettest  clerkes  beth  not  wisest  men, 

As  whilom  to  the  wolf  thus  spak  the  mare ; 

Of  al  her  art  ne  counte  I  nat  a  tare." 

Out  at  the  dore  he  goth  ful  pryvyly, 

Whan  that  he  saugh  his  tyme  sotyly ; 

He  loketh  up  and  doun,  til  he  hath  founde 
140  The  clerkes  hors  ther  as  it  stood  i-bounde 

Behynde  the  mylle  under  a  levesel, 

And  to  the  hors  he  goth  him  faire  and  wel. 

He  strepeth  of  the  bridel  right  anoon  ; 

And  whan  the  hors  was  loos,  he  gan  to  goon 

Toward  the  fen  there  wilde  mares  renne, 

For  [th]  with  '  we-he !'  thurgh  thikke  and  eek  thurgh 
thenne. 

This  meller  goth  agayn,  and  no  word  seyde, 

But  doth  his  note,  and  with  the  clerkes  pleyde, 

122.  adoun,  Tyr.  125.  ill...  is,  Tyr.  126.  miller,  Tyr.  130. 
For  al  the  sleighte  in  hir  philosophic,  Tyr.  a.  b.  135.  spake,  Tyr. 
Tyrwhitt  has  gone  far  out  of  his  way  to  explain  the  allusion  in 
this  line.  The  fable  of  the  Wolf  and  the  Mare  is  found  in  the 
Latin  Esopean  collections,  and  in  the  early  French  poem  of  Renard 
le  Contrefait,  from  whence  it  appears  to  have  been  taken  into  the 
English  Reynard  the  Fox.  In  Renard  le  Contrefait,  the  wolf  utters  a 
similar  sentiment  (though  differently  expressed]  to  that  in  Chaucer — 

Or  voi-ge  bien  tout  en  apert 

Que  clergie  bien  sa  saison  pert ; 

Aucunes  foiz  vilain  queaignent 

Es  leus  ou  le  clerc  se  mehaignent. 
*         *         *         * 

Ge  ne  fis  mie  grant  savoir, 

Quant  ge  vouloie  clers  devenir. 

138.  softely,Tyr.  141.  behind,  Tyr.  145.  ther,  Tyr.  146.  thick, 
Tyr.  147,8,  said,  plaid,  Tyr. 


30  FABLIAUX. 

Til  that  her  corn  was  fair  and  wel  i-grounde. 

150  And  whan  the  mele  was  sakked  and  i-bounde, 
This  Johan  goth  out  and  fynt  his  hors  away, 
And  gan  to  crye,  "  Harrow  and  weylaway  ! 
Oure  hors  is  lost !  Aleyn,  for  Goddes  banes! 
Step  on  thy  feet,  cum  on,  man,  al  at  anes. 
Aleyn,  3our  wardeyn  hath  his  palfray  lorn !  " 
This  Aleyn  al  forgeteth  mele  and  corn, 
Al  was  out  of  his  mynd  his  housbondrye  ; 
"  What  wikked  way  is  he  gan  1 "  gan  he  crye. 
The  wyf  cam  lepyng  in-ward  with  a  ren, 

160  Sche  seyde,  "  Alias!  ^our  hors  goth  to  the  fen 
W^th  wylde  mares,  as  fast  as  he  may  go : 
Unthank  come  on  his  heed  that  band  him  so, 
And  he  that  bettir  schuld  han  knyt  the  reyne  !  " 
"  Alias !  "  quod  Johan,  "  Aleyn,  for  Cristes  peyne  ! 
Leg  doun  thi  swerd,  and  I  sal  rnyn  alswa  ; 

I  is  ful  wight,  God  wat,  as  is  a  ra, 

By  Goddes,  hart !  he  sal  nat  scape  us  bathe. 
Why  nad  thou  put  the  capil  in  the  lathe  1 

II  hail,  Aleyn,  by  God  !  thou  is  a  fon  !  " 
170  This  sely  clerkes  speeden  hem  anoon 

Toward  the  fen,  bothe  Aleyn  and  eek  Jon. 
And  whan  the  myller  sawh  that  they  were  gon, 
He  half  a  busshel  of  the  flour  hath  take, 
And  bad  his  wyf  go  knede  it  in  a  cake. 
He  seyde,  "  I  trowe  the  clerkes  ben  aferd  ! 
— "  3et  can  a  meller  make  a  clerkes  berd, 
For  al  his  art ;  36,  lat  hem  go  here  way  ! 
Lo  wher  they  goon  !  36,  lat  the  children  play  ; 
They  get  hym  nat  so  lightly,  by  my  croun  ! " 
180  This  seely  clerkes  ronnen  up  and  doun, 

153.  our,  Tyr.  155.  our,  Tyr.  a,  b.  probably  the  more  correct  read 
ing.  156.  forgat  loth,  Tyr.  159.  came,  Tyr.  160.  youre,  Tyr.  the 
plural  form  instead  of  the  singular.  163,4.  rein,  pein,  Tyr.  164. 
Joh^n,  MS.  166.  wate,Tyr.  170.  han  ful  fast  y-ronne,  Tyr.  176. 
The  Wife  of  Bath  says,  (Cant.  T.  5940,)  — 

Though  thou  pray  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyen, 
To  be  my  wardecorps,  as  he  can  best, 
In  faith  he  shal  not  kepe  me  but  me  lest: 
Yet  coude  I  make  his  berd,  so  mote  I  the  ! 

This  proverbial  phrase  was  taken  from  the  French,  faire  la  barbe  «•• 
quelquun. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  31 

With    "keep!   keep!  stand!   stand!   jossa,   ware 

derere ! 

Ga  wightly  thou,  and  I  sal  keep[e]  him  heere." 
But  schortly  til  that  it  was  verray  night, 
They  covvde  nat,  though  they  did  al  here  might, 
Here  capil  cacche,  it  ran  away  so  fast, 
Til  in  a  diche  they  caught  him  atte  last. 
Wery  and  wete  as  bestys  in  the  reyn, 
Comth  sely  Johan.  and  with  him  comth  Aleyn. 
"  Alas  !  "  quod  Johan,  "  that  day  that  I  was  born  ! 

190  Now  are  we  dryve  tel  hethyng  and  to  scorn. 
Oure  corn  is  stole,  men  woln  us  foles  calle, 
Bathe  the  wardeyn  and  eek  our  felaws  alle, 
And  namely  the  myller,  weyloway  !  " 
Thus  pleyneth  Johan,  as  he  goth  by  the  way 
Toward  the  mylle,  and  Bayard  in  his  hand. 
The  myller  sittyng  by  the  fyr  he  fand  ; 
For  it  was  night,  and  forther  might  they  nou^t, 
But  for  the  love  of  God  the}7  him  bisought 
As  herberwh  and  of  ese  as  for  her  peny. 

200  The  myller  sayd  agayn,  "If  ther  be  eny, 
Swich  as  it  is  ^it  schul  ^e  have  ^our  part. 
Myn  hous  is  streyt,  but  ^e  han  lerned  art ; 
3e  conne  by  argumentes  make  a  place 
A  myle  brood  of  twenty  foote  of  space  : 
Let  se  now  if  this  place  may  suffyse, 
Or  make  it  rom  with  speche,  as  is  3our  gyse." 
"  Now  Symond,"    seyde    this  Johan,    "  by  seynt 

Cuthberd ! 

Ay  is  thou  mery,  and  that  is  fair  answerd. 
I  have  herd  say  men  suld  take  of  twa  thinges, 
210  Slik  as  he  fynt,  or  tak  slik  as  he  bringes ; 
But  specially  I  pray  the,  host  ful  deere, 
Get  us  soin  mete  and  drynk,  and  mak  us  cheere, 

182.  Ga  whistle,  Tyr.,  a,  b.  I  think  an  inferior  reading  to  that  of 
our  text — one  clerk  tells  his  companion  to  go  nimbly  after  the  horse, 
while  he  remains  to  stop  him  on  the  other  side.  185.  catch,  Tyr. 
a  modern  orthography,  quite  inadmissible  in  Chaucer's  time,  when 
the  infinitive  was  cacchen  and  cacche.  191.  wol,  Tyr.  singular  for 
plural.  192.  both,  Tyr.  202.  have,  Tyr.  203.  can,  Tyr.  argu 
mentes  maken,  Tyr.  These  readings  destroy  the  meter  and  grammar, 
conne  is  the  pi.  can  the  sing,  argumentes  is  a  word  of  four  syllables. 
The  final  vowel  of  the  infinitive  make  is  elided  before  the  following  a. 
211.  hoste  dere,  Tyr. 


32  FABLIAUX. 

And  we  wol  paye  trewly  at  the  fulle  : 
With  empty  hand  men  may  na  hawkes  tulle. 
Lo  heer  our  silver  redy  for  to  spende." 
This  meller  into  toun  his  doughter  sende 
For  ale  and  breed,  and  rosted  hem  a  goos, 
And  band  her  hors  he  schold  no  more  go  loos, 
And  in  his  owne  chambif  hem  made  a  bed 

220  With  schetys  and  with  chalouns  fair  i-spred, 
Nat  from  his  owen  bed  ten  foot  or  twelve ; 
His  doughter  had  a  bed  al  by  hir  selve 
Right  in  the  same  chambre  by  and  by ; 
Hit  mighte  be  no  bet,  and  cause  why, 
Ther  was  no  rommer  herberw  in  the  place. 
They  sowpen  and  they  speke  hem  to  solace, 
And  dronken  ever  strong  ale  atte  beste  ; 
Aboute  mydnyght  wente  they  to  reste. 
Wei  hath  the  myller  vernysshed  his  heed ; 

230  Ful  pale  he  was,  for-dronken,  and  nat  reed, 
He  ^oxeth,  and  he  speketh  thurgh  the  nose, 
As  he  were  on  the  quakke  or  on  the  pose. 
To  bed  he  goth,  and  with  him  goth  his  wyf, 
As  eny  jay  sche  light  was  and  jolyf, 
So  was  his  joly  whistel  wel  y-wet ; 
The  cradil  at  hire  beddes  feet  is  set, 
To  rokken  and  to  3ive  the  child  to  souke. 
And  whan  that  dronken  was  al  in  the  crouke, 
To  bedde  went  the  doubter  right  anon  ; 

240  To  bedde  goth  Aleyn,  and  also  Jon, 

Ther  nas  no  more,  him  needed  no  dwale. 
This  meller  hath  so  wysly  bibbed  ale, 
That  as  an  hors  he  snortith  in  his  sleep, 
Ne  of  his  tayl  bihy nd  took  he  no  keep  ; 
His  wyf  [bare  him  a]  burdoun,  a  ful  strong, 
Men  might  her  rowtyng  heeren  a  forlong  ; 
The  wenche  routeth  eek  par  companye. 
Aleyn  the  clerk,  that  herd  this  melodye, 

213,14,  full,  tull,  Tyr.     214.  In  another  place  this  proverb  is  given 
somewhat  differently, — 

With  empty  hond  men  may  no  haukes  lure. — Cant.  T.  5997. 
216.  to  the  toun,  Tyr.  The  more  correct  phrase  is  that  in  the  text — 
the  miller  had  not  to  send  to  a  town  at  a  distance,  but  into  the  town 
or  village  at  which  he  was  residing.  219.  owen,  Tyr.  226.  speJcen 
of  solace,  Tyr.  235.  hire,  Tyr.  a,  245.  The  words  in  brackets  have 
been  omitted  in  the  MS.  Harl.  7334,  by  an  oversight  of  the  scribe. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  33 

He  pokyd  Johan,  and  seyde,  "  Slepistow  1 
250  Herdistow  ever  slik  a  sang  er  now  1 

Lo,  slik  a  conplyng  is  betwix  hem  alle, 

A  wilde  fyr  upon  thair  bodyes  falle  ! 

Wha  herkned  ever  swilk  a  ferly  thing  ? 

3e,  thei  sul  have  the  flour  of  ille  endyng ! 

This  lange  night  ther  tydes  me  na  rest. 

But  ^et  na  fors,  al  sal  be  for  the  best, 

For,  Johan"  sayd  he,  "  as  ever  mot  I  thry ve, 

If  that  I  may,  ^one  wenche  sal  I  swy  ve. 

Sorn  esement  hath  lawe  schapen  us ; 
260  For,  Johan,  ther  is  a  lawe  that  says  thus, 

That  if  a  man  in  a  poynt  be  agreved, 

That  in  another  he  sal  be  releeved. 

Oure  corn  is  stoln,  sothly,  it  is  na  nay, 

And  we  have  had  an  ylle  fitt  to  day  ; 

And  syn  I  sal  have  nan  amendement, 

Agayn  my  los  1  wol  have  esement. 

By  Godde  sale  !  it  sal  nan  other  be." 

This  Johan  answerd,  "  Aleyn,  avyse  the  : 

This  miller  is  a  perlous  man,"  he  sayde, 
270  "  And  if  that  he  out  of  his  sleep  abrayde, 

He  mighte  do  us  bothe  a  vilonye." 

Aleyn  answerd  "  I  count  it  nat  a  flye." 

And  up  he  roos,  and  by  the  wenche  crepte ; 

This  wenche  lay  upright,  and  faste  slepte 

Til  he  so  neih  was  or  sche  might  aspye, 

That  it  had  ben  to  late  for  to  crye. 

And  schortly  for  to  seye,  they  weren  at  oon : 

Now  pley,  Aleyn,  for  I  wol  speke  of  Jon. 

This  Johan  lith  stille  a  forlong  whyle  or  two, 
280  And  to  himself  compleyned  of  his  woo. 

"  Alias !  "  quod  he,  "  this  is  a  wikked  jape : 

Now  may  I  say  that  I  am  but  an  ape. 

3et  hath  my  felaw  somwhat  for  his  harm, 

He  hath  the  myllers  doughter  in  his  arm  ; 

He  auntred  him,  and  has  his  needes  sped, 

249,50.  slepest  thou,  herdestthou,  Tyr.  251.  Lo  whilke  a  complin  is 
y-mett  hem  alle,  Tyr.  Lo  swilke  a  compline  es  betuene,  a.  Swilke  a 
conplyng  is  betwixt,  b.  261.  ^y  Qui  in  uno  gravatur,  in  alio  debet  re- 
levari.  Marginal  note  in  MS.  Harl.  7334.  263.  stolne,  Tyr.  268. 
answered,  Tyr.  273,  rist.  Tyr.  b.  reste,  a.  277.  sey  . .  were,  Tyr. 
seyn,  b.  280.  he  maketh  routh  and  tvo,  Tyr.  a.  b. 
F 


34  FABLIAUX. 

And  I  lye  as  a  draf  sak  in  my  bed  ; 
And  when  this  jape  is  tald  another  day, 
I  sal  be  hald  a  daf,  a  cokenay. 
Unhardy  is  unsely,  as  men  saith  ; 

290  I  wil  arise,  and  auntre  it,  in  good  faith." 
And  up  he  ros,  and  softely  he  wente 
Unto  the  cradil,  and  in  his  hand  it  hente, 
And  bar  it  softe  unto  his  beddis  feet. 
Soone  after  this  the  wyf  hir  routyng  leet, 
And  gan  awake,  and  went  hir  for  to  pisse, 
And  cam  agayn  and  gan  hir  cradel  inysse, 
And  groped  heer  and  ther,  but  sche  fond  noon. 
"  Alias !  "  quod  sche,  "  I  had  almost  mys-goon  ; 
I  had  almost  goon  to  the  clerkes  bed, 

300  Ey  benedicite  !  than  had  I  foule  i-sped  !  " 
And  forth  sche  goth  til  sche  the  cradil  fand. 
Sche  gropith  alway  forther  with  hir  hand, 
And  fand  the  bed,  and  thoughte  nat  but  good, 
By  cause  that  the  cradil  by  hit  stood, 
Nat  knowyng  wher  sche  was,  for  it  was  derk  ; 
But  fair  and  wel  sche  creep  in  to  the  clerk, 
And  lith  ful  stille,  and  wolde  han  caught  a  sleep. 
Withinne  a  while  Johan  the  clerk  up  leep, 
And  on  this  goode  wyf  leyth  on  ful  sore  ; 

310  So  mery  a  fytt  ne  hadd  sche  nat  ful  ^ore, 

He  priketh  harde  and  deepe,  as  he  were  mad. 

This  joly  lyf  han  this  twey  clerkes  had, 

Til  that  the  thridde  cok  bygan  to  synge. 

Aleyn  wax  wery  in  the  dawenynge, 

For  he  had  swonken  al  the  longe  night, 

And  seyd,  "  Far-wel,  Malyn,  my  sweete  wight ! 

The  day  is  come,  I  may  no  lenger  byde, 

But  evermo,  wher  so  I  go  or  ryde, 

I  am  thin  owen  clerk,  so  have  I  seel ! " 

288.  halden  a  daffe  or  a  cokenay,  Tyr.  Tyrwhitt's  explanation  of 
the  word  coJcenay  is  certainly  erroneous.  See  the  glossary  to  my 
edition  of  Piers  Ploughman,  sub.  v.  292.  rose,  Tyr.  293.  bare,  Tyr. 
296.  came,  Tyr.  All  these  are  plural  forms  instead  of  singular. 
306.  crept,  Tyr.  crepe,  a.  b.  307.  still,  Tyr.  308.  lepe,  Tyr,  a,  b. 
311,  hard,  Tyr.  the  adjective  instead  of  the  adverb,  harde  and 
deepe,  is  hardly  and  deeply.  313.  sing,  Tyr.  319.  hele,  Tyr.  seel 
signifies  good  fortune,  as  in  the  proverb  cited  above,  1.  289,  unhardy 
is  unsely,  he  who  wants  courage  will  be  unfortunate,  equivalent  to  the 
more  modern  proverb,  Faint  heart  never  wan  fair  lady. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  35 

320  "  Now,  deere  lemman,"  quod  sche,  "  go,  far-wel ! 
But  or  thou  go,  o  thing  I  wol  the  telle : 
Whan  that  thou  wendist  horn-ward  by  the  melle, 
Right  at  the  entre  of  the  dore  byhynde 
Thou  schalt  a  cake  of  half  a  busshel  fynde, 
That  was  i-maked  of  thyn  owen  rnele, 
Which  that  I  hilp  myn  owen  self  to  stele. 
And,  goode  lemman,  God  the  save  and  kepe !  " 
And  with  that  word  almost  sche  gan  to  weepe. 
Aleyn  uprist,  and  thought,  "  Er  that  it  dawe 

330  I  wol  go  crepen  in  by  my  felawe," 

And  fand  the  cradil  with  his  hand  anon. 

"  By  God  !"  thought  he,  "  al  wrong  I  have  i-goon ; 

My  heed  is  toty  of  my  swynk  to-nyght, 

That  makes  me  that  I  ga  nou}t  aright. 

I  wot  wel  by  the  cradel  I  have  mysgo  ; 

Heer  lith  the  my  Her  and  his  wyf  also." 

Forth  he  goth  in  twenty  devel  way 

Unto  the  bed  ther  as  the  miller  lay. 

He  wende  have  crope  by  his  felaw  Jon, 

340  And  by  the  myller  in  he  creep  anon, 

And  caught  him  by  the  nekke,  and  soft  he  spak, 
And  seyde,  "  Jon,  thou  swyneshed,  awak, 
For  Cristes  sowle  !  and  here  a  noble  game  ; 
For,  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  seynt  Jame, 
As  I  have  thries  in  this  schorte  night 
Swyved  the  myllers  dorter  bolt  upright, 
Whiles  thou  hast  as  a  coward  ben  agast." 
"  3e,  false  harlot,"  quod  this  mellere,  "  hast? 
A !  false  traitour,  false  clerk  !  "  quod  he, 

350  "  Thou  schalt  be  deed,  by  Goddes  dignite  ! 
Who  durste  be  so  bold  to  disparage 
My  doughter,  that  is  come  of  hih  lynage?" 
And  by  the  throte  bolle  he  caught  Aleyn; 
And  he  hent  him  dispitously  ageyn, 
And  on  the  nose  he  smot  him  with  his  fest, 

321,2.  tell,  mett,  Tyr.  323,4.  behind,  find,  Tyr.  329.  daw,  Tyr. 
340.  crept,  Tyr.  crape,  a.  crepe,  b.  341.  and  gan  him  strake,  Tyr. 
345.  short,  Tyr.  355.  smote,  Tyr.  a.  In  the  latter  it  is  perhaps  an 
error  of  the  scribe,  for  smote  is  more  properly  the  plural.  It  may  be 
observed  here  that  the  most  frequent  faults  of  the  old  scribes  were 
the  omission  of  a  final  e  where  it  should  appear,  and  the  addition  of 
one  incorrectly,  before  a  following  word  beginning  with  a  vowel  or 
an  h,  in  which  case  the  final  e  was  not  pronounced. 


36  FABLIAUX. 

Doun  rad  the  blody  streem  upon  his  brest, 
And  in  the  floor  with  nose  and  mouth  to-broke 
They  walweden  as  pigges  in  a  poke  ; 
And  up  thay  goon,  and  doun  they  goon  anon, 

360  Til  that  the  millner,  stumbled  at  a  ston, 
And  doun  he  felle  bakward  on  his  wyf, 
That  wyste  nothing  of  this  nyce  stryf, 
For  sche  was  falle  a-sleepe  a  litel  wight 
With  Jon  the  clerk,  that  waked  al  the  night. 
And  with  the  falle  right  out  of  slepe  sche  brayde, 
"  Help,  holy  croys  of  Bromholme  !  "  sche  sayde, 
"  In  manus  tuas,  Lord,  to  the  I  calle  ! 
Awake,  Symond,  the  feend  is  in  thin  halle ! 
My  hert  is  broken  !  help  !  I  am  but  deed  ! 

370  Ther  lythe  upon  my  wombe  and  on  myn  heed. 
Help,  Symkyn !  for  this  false  clerkes  fight." 
This  Johan  stert  up  as  fast  as  ever  he  might, 
And  grasped  by  the  walles  to  and  fro, 
To  fynde  a  staf ;  and  sche  sturt  up  also, 
And  knewe  the  estres  bet  than  dede  Jon, 
And  by  the  wal  sche  took  a  staf  anon, 
And  sawh  a  litel  glymeryng  of  light ; 
For  at  an  hool  in  schon  the  moone  light. 
And  by  that  light  sche  saugh  hem  bothe  two  ; 

380  But  sikirly  sche  wiste  nat  who  was  who, 
But  [as]  sche  saugh  a  whit  thing  in  hir  ye. 
And  whan  sche  gan  this  white  thing  aspye, 
Sche  wend  the  clerk  had  wered  a  volupeer, 
And  with  a  staf  sche  drough  hir  neer  and  neer, 
And  wend  have  hit  this  Aleyn  atte  fulle, 
And  smot  this  meller  on  the  piled  sculle, 
And  doun  he  goth,  and  cryeth,  "  Harrow!  I  dye  !  " 
This  clerkes  beeten  him  wel,  and  leet  hym  lye, 
And  greyth  hem  wel,  and  take  her  hors  anon, 

390  And  eek  here  mele,  and  hoom  anon  they  goon, 
And  at  the  millen  dore  they  tok  here  cake, 
Of  half  a  buisshel  flour  ful  wel  i-bake. 
Thus  is  the  prowde  miller  wel  i-bete, 
And  hath  i-lost  the  gryndyng  of  the  whete, 

357.  fiore,  Tyr.  a,  b.  358.  much  better  than  Tyr.  ihei  walowe  as 
tuo  pigges,  a.  361../e//,Tyr./*J.  a. ///<?,  b.  363,365.  fall,  Tyr.fal.  a. 
374.  find,  Tyr.fynden,  b.  376.  toke,  Tyr.  378.  bright,  Tyr.  a,  b. 
no  doubt  the  more  correct  reading.  381.  But  as  she,  Tyr.  a,  b.  white, 
Tyr.  a,b.  384.  the  staf,  Tyr.  a,  b.  386.  smote,  Tyr.  a,  b. 


THE  MILLER  OF  TRUMPINGTON.  37 

And  payed  for  the  soper  everydel 
Of  Aleyn  and  of  Johan,  that  beten  him  wel ; 
His  wyf  is  swy  ved,  and  his  doughter  als. 
Lo  !  such  it  is  a  miller  to  be  fals. 
And  ther-to  this  proverbe  is  seyd  ful  soth, 
400  He  thar  nat  weene  wel  that  evyl  doth. 
A  gylour  schal  him  self  bygiled  be  ; 
And  God  that  sittest  in  thy  mageste, 
Save  al  this  compaignie  gret  and  smale. 
Thus  have  I  quyt  the  miller  in  his  tale. 

Here  endeth  the  reeves  tale. 

400.  Him  thar  not  wene,  a,  b.  Tyrwhitt  has  without  any  reason 
changed  weene  to  winnen,  to  make,  as  he  supposed,  sense  of  the 
passage.  The  literal  meaning  seems  clear  enough,  "  He  need  not 
imagine,  or  suppose, well,  who  does  evil."  Him  is  a  hetter  reading 
than  he. 


Y- 


SECTION  II.-GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

I  give  this  name  to  the  class  of  Latin  satirical  poetry  which  I  have 
collected  together  under  the  title  of  "  Latin  Poems  attributed  to 
Walter  Mapes,"  because  these  pieces  appear  to  have  been  most 
generally  published  under  the  name  of  the  goliards,  (goliardi), 
a  class  of  clerks  who  answer  to  the  class  of  general  society 
in  the  middle  ages  distinguished  by  the  titles  of  ribalds  (ribaldi), 
lechers  (leccatores),  and  the  like.  A  further  account  of  the  goliards 
will  be  found  in  the  introduction  to  the  work  just  quoted. 

The  number  of  manuscripts  of  this  poetry  shows  that  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  even  in  the  century  following,  it  must  have 
had  a  very  great  political  influence.  It  appears  to  have  been  chiefly 
confined  to  England,  very  little  of  it  being  found  in  foreign  manu 
scripts.  In  a  recent  visit  to  Oxford,  1  took  the  opportunity  of 
examining  a  few  of  the  collections  of  Goliardic  verses  preserved 
among  the  manuscripts  of  the  Bodleian  library,  and  selected  one  or 
two  pieces  hitherto  inedited,  which  are  given  in  the  following  pages. 
Many  of  those  published  already  in  the  "  Poems  attributed  to 
W alter  Mapes,"  contain  in  the  Oxford  MSS.  considerable  and  im 
portant  variations,  and  some  curious  passages  not  found  in  the  printed 
texts.  Thus  in  MS.  Digby,  No.  4,  of  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  or 
beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  in  a  poem  which  appears  to  be 
the  same  that  I  have  printed  at  p.  159  of  Walter  Mapes,  we  find 
the  following  lines  at  the  end,  after  the  line  Sed  a  diverticulo,  &c. 
They  are  curious  as  showing  the  practise  among  the  English  barons, 
in  the  thirteenth  century,  of  sending  their  children  to  be  educated 
in  the  French  universities,  to  which  the  writer  imputes  the  intro 
duction  of  foreign  vices  into  England. 

Filii  nobilium,  dum  sunt  jtmiores, 
Mittuntur  in  Franciam  fieri  doctores ; 
Quos  piece  vel  pretio  domant  corruptores, 
Sic  prsetaxatos  referunt  artaxata  mores. 

Mores  habent  barbarus,  Latinus,  et  Graecus, 
Si  sacerdos  ut  plebs  est  caecum  ducit  csecus : 
Se  mares  effeminant,  et  equa  fit  equus, 
Expectes  ab  he-mine  usque  ad  pecus. 

Et  quia  non  metuuut  animse  discrimen,* 
Principes  in  habitum  verterunt  hoc  crimen, 
Virum  viro  turpiter  jungit  novus  hymen, 
Exagitata  procul  non  intrat  foemina  limen. 

*  These  four  lines  are  the  same  as  11.  41 — 44,  of  the  printed  text. 


FRAGMENTS.  39 

Unde  est  prse  ceeteris  quod  cuncti  mirantur, 
Quod  vix  hii  qui  largi  sunt  vel  nunquam  ditantur, 
Sed  cum  divitise  largis  sociantur, 
Non  bene  conveniunt  nee  in  una  sede  morantur, 

Esto  fur  vel  proditor,  Verres  sive  Graccus, 
Deus  reputaberis  ut  Thebarum  Bacchus  ; 
Esto  Cato  moribus,  scientia  Flaccus,* 
Duceris  a  populo  velut  ictus  ab  Hercule  Caccus. 

In  the  same  Digby  MS.  there  is  a  copy  of  the  poem  I  have  printed 
at  p.  152,  of  the  same  work,  commencing  with  1.  13,  Multiformis 
hominum,  &c.  and  ending  with  the  following  inedited  lines,  in  which 
the  writer  appeals  to  the  generosity  of  his  patron  (as  it  appears) 
named  Fulmarus.  This  name  occurs  in  old  writers,  though  it  would 
probably  be  a  vain  attempt  to  identify  the  person  here  alluded  to. 

Ab  istis  excipiort  solus  hie  Fulmarus  ; 
Larga  manus  fulgurat,  genere  praeclarus ; 
Solus  inter  avidos  vivit  non  avarus, 
Inde  manu  fulgens  vel  avari  fulgor  amarus. 

Mos  Fulmari  prsecipit  locum  dare  vago, 
Nam  Fulmaro  displicet  avari  vorago  ; 
Fulmarum  largificat  nobilis  propago, 
Si  genus  arguitur  vultu,  nisi  fallit  imago. 

Ergo  manu  dapsili  fulgurans,  Fulmare, 
Ne  permittas  peditem  me  repatriare, 
Magnus  eris  si  me  bipedem  scis  quadrupedare. 

A  copy  of  the  poem  entitled  Golice  Quterela  ad  Papam  ( W.  Map. 
p.  57),  preserved  in  this  same  manuscript,  ends  with  the  following 
lines,  containing  a  curious  description  of  the  leccatores  or  ribaldi,  a 
dissolute  and  unprincipled  class  of  society  who  lived  upon  the  rich 
in  the  middle-ages,  and  who  may  be  described  as  the  parasitic  caste. 
We  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  them  frequently  in  the  course  of 
the  present  volume.  I  arrange  the  lines  here  differently  from  my 
former  edition  of  the  poem,  for  the  convenience  of  printing :  in  the 
MS.  it  is  written  as  prose. 

*  The  Latin  poets,  Horace,  Virgil,  Ovid,  &c.,  from  being  read  in  the 
schools,  became  looked  upon  rather  as  learned  scholars  than  as  elegant 
poets.  The  popular  legends  relating  to  Virgil  are  well  known.  Horace 
is  here  spoken  of  as  being  remarkable  for  science.  In  my  Latin  Stories, 
p.  43,  there  is  a  tale  of  two  scholars  who  went  to  the  tomb  of  Ovid,  ut 
ab  eo  quicquam  addiscerent,  eo  quod  sapiens  fuerat. 

t  Probably  for  excipitur. 


40  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

Possunt  autem  leccatores  dici  spinse,  quorum  mores 

pungunt  atque  tribulant ; 
Quorum  vita  sorde  plena  ;  semen  fundunt  in  arena, 

masculos  demasculant. 
0  igitur  trecensitee  clericorum  margaritae 

et  cleri  clerissimi, 
A  fermento  leccatorum  expurgate  vestrum  chorum, 

sicut  estis  azimi. 
Istos  manus  Stigis  aedes,  isti  non  sunt  cohseredes 

Ysaac,  sed  Ishmael. 
Hos  dignetur  extirpare  qui  de  coelo  venit  dare 

pacem  super  Israhel ! 

It  appears  by  these  lines  that  this  class  of  society  had  even  crept 
among  and  found  encouragement  with  the  clergy.  The  following 
poem,  taken  from  the  same  manuscript  as  the  foregoing,  ends  with 
an  allusion  to  the  infamy  of  the  parasitic  caste.  The  object  of  the 
poem  appears  to  be  to  impress  upon  bishops  and  abbots  the  duty  of 
liberality,  and  the  wickedness  of  squandering  their  riches  on  the 
immoral  class  who  lived  upon  the  superfluities  of  the  barons. 

ON  THE  PASTORAL  STAFF. 

Bacissare  sacramentum  nee  recenter  est  inventum, 

nee  sine  mysterio; 
Ab  antique  manet  rata,  scripto  legis  figurata 

baculi  religio. 
Ergo  ne  res  occultetur,  ut  occultum  reveletur, 

ordiamur  altius : 
Nam  id  de  quo  dubitatur,  scripto  teste  dum  probatur, 

creditur  facilius. 

Lignum    per   quod    Rubrum    Mare    fecit    tanquam 
murum  stare, 

legis  ille  baculus ; 
In  hoc  ligno  figuratur,  quod  a  nobis  appellatur 

tarn  virga  quam  baculus. 
Ilia  siccat  fluctus  maris,  ista  siccat  in  avaris 

crimen  avaritiae. 
Ilia  mergit  prosequentes,  ista  dampnat  protrahentes 

morsibus  invidise. 
Ut  testatur  legis  lator,  dum  sitiret  susurrator 

Hebreeorum  populus, 
Expendente  Deo  numen  super  aquas  iste  flumen 

dulcoratur  baculus. 
Per  arnarum  parcitatem,  et  per  dulce  largitatem 

denotamus  singuli ; 


ON  THE  PASTORAL  STAFF.  41 

Ibi  dulce  de  amaro,  largus  hie  fit  ex  avaro, 

per  virtutem  baculi. 
Ligno  serpens  elevatus  in  deserto,  cruciatus 

repressit  veneficos; 
Istud  lignum  largitores  munit  erga  detractores, 

et  dampnat  maledicos. 
Ibi  serpens  adoratur,  qui  per  lignum  sullimatur  ; 

notate  mysteria  : 
Hie  per  lignum  baculista  praedicatur  die  ista, 

dignus  laud  is  gloria. 
Jacob  dum,  instinctu  matris,  iret  prae  timore  fratris 

jungendus  avunculo, 
Sapienter  et  modeste  pertransivit,  ipso  teste, 

Jordanem  in  baculo.* 
Per  Jordanem  designari  potest  mundus,  et  notari 

largitas  per  baculum  ; 
Vincit  ergo  baculator,  parcitatis  supplantator, 

largitate  sseculum. 
Libro  Regum  teste  scitis,  dum  pro  nato  Sunamitis 

agit  planctum  querulum, 
Elisey  vice  functus  currit  puer,  sed  defunctus 

nee  surgit  ad  baculum.  t 
Hie  tenaces  et  avari  per  defunctum  figurari 

recto  debent  ordine ; 
Nee  defunctus  suscitatur,  nee  avarus  revocatur 

a  foeda  cupidine.J 
Per  Giesi  Giesitas  nota,  quos  et  Simonitas 

nuncupat  Latinitas, 
Per  quos  nemo  suscitatur,  quia  per  hos  propagatur 

vix  aut  nunquam  largitas. 
Tegit  Thamar  partes  nudas,  ut  jungatur  sibi  Judas, 

mediante  baculo ;  § 
Tali  dono  foederata,  et  armilla  subarrata, 

coit  in  propatulo. 


*  In  baculo  meo  transivi  Jordanem  istum  :  et  nunc  cum  duabus  turmis 
regredior.  Genes,  xxxii,  10. 

t  See  II  Reg.  cap.  iv.  29,  31.  Et  ille  ait  ad  Giezi ;  accinge  lumbos 
tuos,  et  tolle  baculum  meum  in  manu  tua,  et  vade. .  et  pones  -baculum 
meum  super  faciem  pueri ....  Giezi  autem  posuerat  baculum  super  faciem 
pueri,  et . . .  non  surrexit  puer. 

t  See  II  Reg.  cbap.  v. 

§  See  Genes,  xxxviii,  18 — 25. 
G 


42  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

Si  per  Thamar  probitatem,  per  baculum  largitatem 

designat  moralitas  ; 
Ergo  quisquis  largus  erit,  sociari  sibi  quaerit 

Thamar,  id  est,  probitas. 
Sed  id  ad  figuram  verto,  quod  coivit  in  aperto 

Judas,  non  in  latebris, 
Quia  largus  prse  munere  cunctis  debet,  et  torquere 

non  quserit  in  latebris. 
Et  condendum  cordis  archa,  quod  fidelis  patriarcha, 

quando  carnes  obtulit ; 
Super  partes  quas  incidit  congregari  muscas  vidit, 

quas  baculo  propulit. 
In  quo  manifeste  patet,  quod  si  forte  te  dilatet 

bacularis  largitas, 
Cave  vigilanti  cura,  ne  defbedet  festi  jura 

leccatorum  foeditas. 
Possunt  enim  leccatores  dici  muscse,  quorum  mores 

muscis  bene  consonant : 
Tactu,  voce  sunt  deformes,  sic  et  hii  cum  sint  enormes 

foeda  verba  intonant. 
His  largiri  non  est  via  largitatis  :  quare  ?  quia 

dare  leccatoribus, 
Ut  a  sanctis  prohibetur,  idem  erit  ac  si  detur 

victima  daemonibus. 
De  his  loquor  corifidenter,  quorum  siquis  impudenter 

me  verbis  impeteret, 
Lacessitus  reticerem,  siquid  enim  responderem, 

victus  forte  vinceret. 

Nam  quotiens  reprobum  reprobo  probus  ore  lacessit, 
Andromachen  Thais,  Thersites  Hectora  culpet, 
Degenerat  probitas,  probra  loquente  probo. 
Non  minus  Andromache,  non  minus  Hector  erit. 
Illos  si  facinus  osquat  quos  inquinat  ergo, 
Inclamet  igitur  furem,  patitur  parasitum, 
Jam  nebulonizat  cum  nebulone  loquens. 
Dum  nihil  objiciam  quidlibet  esse  fero.  finitur. 


The  following  little  poem  is  also  taken  from  MS.  Digby,  No.  4, 
and  is  curious  for  the  mixture  of  Anglo-Norman  words  with  the 
Latin.  It  is  a  general  attack  on  the  vices  of  all  classes  of  society. 


A  GENERAL  SATIRE.  43 


A  GENERAL  SATIRE. 

A  lafeste  sui  venue,  et  ostendam  quare, 
Singulorum  singulos  mores  explicare, 
Reprobare  reprobos  et  probos  probare, 
Et  heedos  ab  ovibus  veni  segregare. 

En  quo  mundi  prius  est  chaos  dissolution, 
Cor*  reproborum  cum  schola  virtutum, 

Ne  miratur  reprobus  se  non  esse  tutum, 
Ab  eo  cui  pectus  est  vitiis  exutum. 

Ego  ventus  turbinis,  qui  turres  impello, 
Qui  radico  fertiles,  steriles  evello, 
Abbates,  pontifices,  decanos  flagello 
Morsibus  satiricis  et  linguae  macello. 

Ego  quasi  gladius  nulli  parcens  reo, 
Solum  baculiferum  digna  laude  beo, 
Nam  ipse  ditabit  nos  annuente  Deo, 
Hodie  beatus  ubi  qui  sperat  in  eo. 

Si  times,  baculifer,  offendere  Deum, 
Ab  avaris  facias  opus  Pharisseum, 
Celebra  muneribus  diem  Jubileum, 
Nam  si  largus  fueris  non  fraudasti  eum. 

Sed  lenonum  loculos  dunt  ci  a  tant  aguz, 
Nam  eorum  vita  put,  as  lechers  seit  aveirs, 
Et  largus  seiez  apud  pauperes,  propterea    exaltabit 
caput. 

Hi  sunt  cives  apud  quos  vivitur  impure, 
Qui  masculos  demasculant  virginum  mixture,t 
Hii  qui,  legalium  spreto  rerum  jure, 
Nolunt  esse  pugiles  in  campo  naturae. 

Hiis  jehennam  preeparat  arbiter  eeternus, 
Istos  manet  patulis  faucibus  infernus, 
Kar  si  grant  ne  receit  ignis  sempiternus, 
Pur  nient  dutereit  les  turmenz  de  enfern  nuls. 

Sed  de  istis  hactenus  sat  dictum  videtur, 
Ad  prselatos  deinceps  stilus  convertetur, 
Quorum  siquis  opera  bene  contempletur, 
Vix  erit  in  millibus  unus  qui  laudetur. 

Cardinales  etenim  et  metropolitae, 
Decani,  pontifices,  et  archilevitse, 
Omnes  auruin  sitiunt,  omnes  Giezitae, 

*  There  is  here  a  blank  in  the  MS.     t  Sic  MS. 


44  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

Et  ex  hiis,  quod  pejus  est,  quidam  sunt  heritae. 

Ecce  novos  protulit  terra  Philistaeos, 
Multi  sunt  vorantes  Hebrseos, 
Nullos  David  prsevalet  extirpare  reos, 
Sed  Deus  et  Dominus  subsannabit  eos, 

Praebendse  nunc  temporis  ducuntur  ad  forum, 
Simonia  pullulat  et  dilatat  chorum, 
Sed  disperdet  Dominus  iter  impiorum, 
Conquassabit  capita  in  terra  multorum.* 

Profuit  antiquitus  litteratum  esse, 
Cum  floreret  studium  copiosa  messe  ; 
Sed  modernis  fodere  magis  est  necesse, 
Quam  vatum  Parisius  scholis  interesse. 

Quid  ergo  scientiae  domum  tibi  struis  1 
Sapiens  si  pauper  es  nee  vales  nee  cluis  : 
Sed  si  ditat  opibus  te  Fortuna  suis, 
Diffusa  est  gratia  in  labiis  tuis. 

Vera  sunt,  ut  arbitror,  ea  quae  auditis, 
Quod  nulla  rependitur  talio  peritis  : 
Sed  ne  velut  improbus  eloquar  invitis, 
Jam  satira  faciat  finem  suse  litis. 

*! 

The  next  poem  is  appropriately  introduced  by  the  concluding  lines 
of  the  one  preceding.  I  have  selected  it  from  a  large  collection  of 
Goliardic  poetry  in  a  manuscript  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  written  in 
the  fourteenth  century,  but  probably  all  belonging  to  the  thirteenth, 
MS.  Digby,  No.  166,  fol.  55,  v°.  The  manuscript  is  very  incorrectly 
written,  and  this  poem  is  full  of  corruptions,  which  render  it  difficult 
to  understand.  It  appears  to  be  the  work  of  a  writer  who  was 
opposed  to  the  secular  learning,  and  who  endeavours  to  show  the 
vanity  of  the  sciences  taught  in  the  schools,  and  the  surpassing 
excellence  of  theological  studies. 

POEM  ON  THE  SCHOLASTIC  STUDIES. 

Ante  legum  dominos  et  magistros  artium 
Usurpasse  videor  doctoris  officium, 
Ut  sermonis  epulo  relevefm]  jejunium, 
Cum  fortassis  unus  si[m]  minimus  sapientium. 
Sed  quod  minus  habeo  suple,  factor  omnium, 
Tu  qui  nobis  factus  es,  Domine,  refugium. 
Domus  quam  prsediximus  domus  est  scientiae, 

*  This   stanza  is  found  in  a  poem  printed  among  those  attributed  to 
Walter  Mapes,  p.  40, 1.  21. 


POEM  ON  THE  SCHOLASTIC  STUDIES.  45 

Quam  reliquit  Dominus  hominis  industries, 
Ut  fructus  percipiat  illius  prudentise, 
Quam  scribit  lectio  libri  sapientiae. 

Ordines  scholarium  discordes  et  varii, 
Tres*  sunt  sapientise  facti  fructuarii, 
Quorum  duo  quia  sunt  segnes  operarii, 
Non  reddentur  singulis  singuli  denarii. 

Primus  ordo  continet  scholares  grammaticos, 
Logicos  et  rhetores  atque  mathematicos, 
Quos  uno  vocabulo  secundum  Italicos 
-~  Garamantes  dicimus  sive  garacios.t 

Inter  artes  igitur  qui  dicuntur  trivium, 
Fundatrix  grammatica  vendicat  principium, 
Sub  hac  chorus  inilitat  metrice  scribentium, 
Quae  se  scholam  aestimat  artem  esse  artium,| 

Inter  quos  .iiij.  ridmice  dictantium, 
Sibi  super  hoc  tenent  sibi  privilegium, 
Stephanus  flos  .i.  Aurelianensium,§ 
Et  Petrus  qui  dicitur  de  castro  Blecensium.|j 

Istis  non  [imjmerito  BerterusIF  adjicitur; 
Sed  nee  inter  alios  quartus  prsetermittitur, 
Ille  quern  Siscellio  latere  non  patitur, 

*  The  sciences  of  the  trivium,  or  first  part  of  the  ordinary  scholastic 
course,  were  Grammar,  Logic  (or  Dialectics,)  and  Rhetoric. 

f  I  have  not  found  either  of  these  words  in  the  sense  here  given  to 
them,  except  in  the  Entheticus  of  John  of  Salisbury,  lately  published  by 
Professor  Petersen,  where  speaking  of  the  schools  of  logic,  the  writer  says, 
(1.  125),— 

Haec  schola  sic  juvenes  voluit  juvenescere  semper, 

Ut  dedignentur  nosse  vel  esse  senes. 
Et  quamvis  tueatur  earn  numerus  Garamantum, 

Quos  audere  monet  fasque  nefasque  furor, 
Quos  gula,  quos  fastus  captos  servire  coegit, 

Quos  transire  Venus  in  sua  castra  facit. 

I  am  not  satisfied  that  Prof.  Petersen  has  given  the  correct  interpretation 
of  the  word, — i.  e.  juvenum  et  virorum  e  remotissimis  regionibus  oriun- 
dorum. 

£  Grammar  was  looked  upon  as  the  head  and  fountain  of  all  the  Arts 
and  Sciences. 

§  Stephen  of  Orleans  was  bishop  of  Tournai  from  1192  to  1200.  He 
had  been  abbot  of  St.  Evurt,  in  the  diocese  of  Orleans,  and  subsequently 
of  St.  Genevieve  at  Paris.  His  epistles  were  edited  by  Masson  with  those 
of  John  of  Salisbury. 

||  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  celebrated  Peter  de  Blois. 
^  Perhaps  this  is  a  corruption  for  Ebrardus,  the  author  of  the  Grzecis- 
mus,  a  favourite  school  book  in  the  middle  ages. 


46  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

In  cujus  opuscule  Alexander  legitur.* 

Post  illam  qui  prior  est  cseteris  in  trivio, 
Subinfertur  logica  grandi  supercilio, 
Discolor  sententiis  et  accincta  gladio, 
Per  quam  falsum  resecat  logicorum  ratio. 

Hanc  doctorum  variat  multiplex  opinio, 
Sed  cunctos  prseradiat  nova  constitutio, 
In  quo  rebus  derogat  Abailardt  sacratio, 
Attribute  vocibus  rerum  privilegio. 

Tertia  subsequitur  species  rhetorical, 
Domum  sapientiee  poliens  mirifice  ; 
Apprehendit  siquidem  juncturam  grammaticae, 
Quam  postquam  purguerit  sub  censura  logicse, 
Depingit  coloribus  et  verborum  murice. 

Sequitur  quadrivium,  J  id  est,  mathematica, 
Eadem  quse  dicitur  a  quibusdam  physica, 
Quse  singula  trutinans  lance  philosophica, 
De  naturis  et  de  rerum  fisica. 

Hie  igitur  artium  felix  septenarius, 
Factus  est  scientise  quasi  fructuarius ; 
Sed  labor  nee  utilisH  nee  est  necessarius, 
Immo  voluntarius  sive  voluptarius. 

Quid  tibi  grammatica  studioso  parata§  labore  ? 
Quid  confert  logica  quee  certa  laudis  amore  1 
Quid  tibi  rhetorica  vernante  superba  lepore  ? 
Quid  fructum  referunt  versus  nugseque  canorse  ? 
Talia  non  sapiunt  viri  sapientis  in  ore. 
Esto  facundus,  Athas  dicas,  quo  fidem  Frigisl 
Defectum  patiatur  ager  quis  frugifer  annis  1 
Dum  nives  producat  hiemps  quse  veris  in  hortu  ] 
Ternperies  in  pignus  vinum  cur  ardeat  aestas  1 
Cur  legat  autumpnus  pugnantes  ebrius  uvas  ] 
Circulus  an  possit  quadriari;|  an  musica 

*  Walter  de  Castellione,  the  author  of  the  Latin  metrical  Gesta 
Alexandri  Magni,  which  held  so  high  a  place  in  the  schools.  The  MS. 
reads  in  cujus  opulus.  Siscellio  is  without  doubt  an  error  for  Castellio. 

f  Bailard,  MS.  There  can  be  no  doubt  it  should  be  Abailard,  the  great 
leader  of  the  philosophical  sect  of  the  Nominalists,  who  are  referred  to  in 
the  next  line. 

J  The  quadrivium,  or  second  part  of  the  scholastic  course,  including  the 
sciences  of  Music,  Arithmetic,  Geometry,  and  Astronomy. 

^[  inutilis,  MS.         §  paratam,  MS. 

||  The  squaring  of  the  circle  and  the  discovery  of  the  philosopher's  stone 
were  the  two  grand  aims  of  a  large  class  of  the  medieval  mathematicians 
and  naturalists. 


POEM  ON  THE  SCHOLASTIC  STUDIES.  47 

Coelestes  modulos  dicas  quae  sidera  septem* 
Impetus  oblique  rapiat  contraria  mundo. 
Quot  distent  a  se  gradibus  quee  stella  vocantur  ] 
Impediat  saevire  senem  quo  sidere  fiat  1 
Obice  propitius  martem  quis  tempus  ignis? 
Parva  loquor,  totum  claudas  sub  pectore  coelum. 
Finge  quod  hoc  scieris  sed  et  hiis  majora,  quid  ad  rem  1 
Tain  cito  descieris  haec  omnia  quod  nihil  ad  rem. 

Transeamurt  igitur  ad  imperatorias 
Sanctiones  principum,  quae  fraudes  et  alias 
In  domo  scientiae  prohibent  injurias  : 
Hos  labores  dixeris,  si  recte  diffinias, 
Vel  impensas  utiles  vel  non  necessarias. 

Bonum  tarn  en  arbitror  scire  juris  apicem ; 
Sed  si  vestrafm],  domini,  voluntatem  indicem, 
Nihil  mihi  proderit  scire  totum  codicem, 
Dum  nil  boni  proferam  ante  tantum  judicem. 

Si  donum  prosequitur  datum  lex  aquila, 
Si  quarta  de  singulis  restat  falsidica, 
Quod  reportat  commodum  talis  observantia, 
Per  quam  non  interius  resecantur  vitia  1 

O  quam  felix  studium,  quam  felices  opere, 
Si  possemus  legibus  in  aeternum  vivere ; 
Sed  cum  regum  videas  corpora  putrescere, 
Qui  juris  aenigmata  studuerunt  solvere, 
Cur  noctis  vigilias  consumis  in  hoc  opere  ] 
Si  superbis  liceat  breviter  concludere, 
Vanum  est  scholaribus  ante  lucein  surgere, 
Cum  nil  boni  percipiant  de  eorum  opere. 

Verum  si  lex  Moisi,  quae  divina  dicitur, 
Nil  perfectum  attulit,  a  minori  sequitur 
Quod  nulla  perfectio  legis  intelligitur, 
Quam  Romanos  principes  pervulgasse  legitur. 

Sed  nulla  facultas  est  quae  cor  magis  alliget, 
Quam  ista,  dum  pelagus  paupertatis  mitiget ; 
Seminat  grammat[ic]a,  semper  tamen  indiget, 
Lex  autem  et  fisica  manipulos  colliget. 

Sed  licet  haerentes  exstirpet  fisica  morbos,J 

*  The  doctrine  of  the  music  of  the  spheres  was  taken  from  the 
Platonic  philosophers. 

t  The  writer,  having  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  vanity  of  the  liberal 
sciences,  now  turns  to  the  study  of  jurisprudence. 

J  From  the  law  he  turns  to  the  medical  profession.  On  the  virtues  of 
diamargariton,  a  medicine  pretended  to  be  made  of  pearls,  see  ^Egidius  de 


48  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

Et  nitida  reddat  pretlo  sumpta  cutem  : 
Si  diamargariton  diuturnet  muriera  vitae, 

Nee  sinat  infantum  plures  abire  dies; 
Si  preciosa  tuus  consumat  medullia  venter, 

Et  gula  Campanum  sorbeat  omne  merum; 
Quid  prodest  status  exterior,  si  sorbeat  intus 

Languidus  et  vitii  febre  sepultus  homo  ? 
Si  videas  legi  statuos  vernare  penates, 
Purpura  si  latus  et  digitos  involvat  acates, 
Clara  licet  proles,  licet  uxor  in  aure  susurret, 
Naturam  expelles  furca,  tamen  usque  recurret.* 

Transferamus  igitur  ad  ordinem  tertium, 
Id  est  ad  theologos,  quorum  felix  studium, 
Prseconantur  etenim  illud  praeconium, 
Cujus  laus  perficitur  ex  ore  infantium. 

Hsec  est  sapientia  de  qua  prius  dixeram, 
Duas  habens  species,  spiritum  et  literam  ; 
Litera  mortificat,  sed  secundum  alteram 
Invenitur  caritas  quae  non  agit  perperam. 

Satis  quidem  rudis  est  et  satis  inconditus 
Intellectus  literae,  si  non  sit  expositus ; 
Sed  si  velis  literam  suggere  medullitus, 
Balsamum  reperies  et  mel  sancti  spiritus. 

Juxta  ripam  fluminis  denegantis  poculum, 
Sitivisse  legimus  Israel,  in  sedulum  ; 
Sed  amaritudines  fluminis  per  baculum 
DulcoravitMoyses,t  computant  populum. 

Hsec  sunt  verba  literae,  sed  haec  expositio  : 
Amara  vel  aspera  fuit  legis  lectio ; 
Sed  minas,  quas  intulit  ilia  superstitio, 
Suae  Christus  expulit  crucis  beneficio, 
Dum  mortalesj  oculos  caligantes  vitio 
Lavit  agnus  proprii  sanguinis  collutio. 

Panis  quam  se  voluit  Helias  reficere, 
Sub  favilla  legitur  coctus  a  muliere.§ 
Quod  si  vis  cum  Jonatha  mel  de  quercurn  suggere,] 
Panis  de  quo  loquitur  conditus  subemere, 
Spiritualis  sensus  est  sub  favilla  litterae. 

Isto  pane  pascitur  fidelis  ecclesia ; 

virtutibus  et  laudibus  compositorum   medicaminum,  lib.  ii.  ap.  Leyser, 
Hist.  Poet.  Med.  ^Ev  p.  539. 

*  Horace,  Epist.  lib.  i,  Ep.  x,  1.  24.  t  Exod.  xv.  23—25 

J  Amortales,  MS.        §  I.  Reg.  xvii  13.          ||  1  Samuel  xiv.  26—30. 


SATIRE  ON  THE  MEN  OF  STOCKTON.  49 

Hunc  panem  conficiunt  sacerdotis  labia, 
Dum  se  transubstantiat  terrena  substantia 
In  illam  quam  peperit  mater  viri  nescia ; 
Hie  est  cibus  animse,  dulcis  eucharistia, 
Quem  in  crucis  clibano  vera  coxit  hostia. 

Joseph  ut  se  liberet  ab  amplexu  feminae, 
Evasisse  legitur  relicto  velamine  ; 
Quia  salvo  penitus  et  illseso  numine, 
Passa  est  humanitas  assumpta  de  virgine. 

Non  enim  divinitas  incomprehensibilis, 
Qui  cum  patre  filius  manet  invisibilis, 
Crucifigi  potuit,  sed  caro  passibilis, 
In  qua  factor  factus  est  et  excelsus  humilis. 

Sed  inter  miracula  testamenti  veteris, 
Istud  est  mirabile  et  mirandum  prse  cseteris, 
Quod  ut  secum  redimat  a  dolore  carceris,* 
Se  ipsum  incarcerat  fabricator  eetheris. 

V- 

The  following  poem,  in  Leonine  verse,  taken  from  MS.  Bodley, 
No.  57,  (fol.  391,  v°.)  is. of  a  different  character  from  the  pieces 
which  precede.  It  is  a  political  satire  by  a  monk  against  the  serfs\ 
of  his  monastery  in  the  town  of  Stockton  (probably  Stockton  on  I 
Tees,  in  the  county  of  Durham),  who  had  risen  up  against  their 
masters,  and  who  appear  to  have  attempted  in  vain  to  defend 
themselves  in  a  court  of  law.  The  monkish  writer  exults  over  their 
defeat.  *It  would  perhaps  not  be  possible  now  to  identify  any  of  the 
persons  whom  he  mentions  as  the  ring-leaders  in  this  affair,  but  it 
relates  probably  to  the  fourteenth  century,  when  the  peasantry  in  va 
rious  parts  of  England  joined  together  to  seek  protection  in  the  law. 
It  is  one  of  the  very  few  popular  monuments  now  remaining  re- 
Sjf".  lating  to  the  great  struggle  between  the  servile  part  of  the  population 
and  the  lords  of  the  soil. 


SATIRE  ON  THE  MEN  OF  STOCKTON. 

Post  incarnatum  verbum  de  virgine  natum, 
Non  fuerant  gentes  fatuee,  numust  insipientes; 
Vse  !  gens  Stoctonse  caret  omnimoda  ratione. 
Plebs  in  Stoctona  dedit  incassum  sua  dona, 
Quando  frui  more  captabant  liberiore. 
Gens  dixit  villa?,  "  Patimur  discrimina  mille  : 

*  caseris,  MS.  t  Sic  MS.  perhaps  for  magis.  /:  * 

H 


50  GOLIARDIC  POETRY. 

Ecce  sumus  gentes  in  consilio  sapientes, 

Omnes  prudentes,  magnum  solamen  habentes, 

Nulli  servire  volumus  dum  possimus  ire  : 

Ibimus  ad  regem,  qui  nobis  vult  dare  legem." 

Omnes  expresse  dicunt,  "  Sic  volumus  esse." 

Mus  furit  in  messe  dum  catum  sentit  abesse. 

Human  Henricus,  eadem  et  ejus  amicus 

Rusticus  antiquus  Rogerus,  et  alter  iniquus, 

Isti  dixerunt  quod  pergere  mox  voluerunt. 

Protinus  iverunt :  vacuis  manibus  redierunt. 

"  Ad  regem  vadam,"  dixit  miserabilis  Adam  ; 

"  Coram  rege  cadam,  causam  scriptam  sibi  tradam." 

Ibant  psallentes,  magnum  risum  facientes ; 

Sed  redeunt  flentes,  fiunt  sine  fine  dolentes. 

Ad  regem  vadunt,  quia  sperant  esse  magistrip 

Coram  rege  cadunt,  fiunt  sine  fine  ministri. 

Providus  urbanus  dixit  narrator  Allanus, 

"  Rustice  Willelme,  causam  tibi  supplico  tel  me, 

Ad  quod  venisti  1  sensu  sine  credo  fuisti, 

Tu  male  discernis,  reus  es,  quia  dominum  spernis : 

Cum  domino  certare  tuo  non  consilium  do. 

Rustice,  victus  eris,  dominum  qui  vincere  quseris. 

Tu  debes  ferre  tibi  quod  dat  regula  terrae. 

Bis  sex  barbati  stantes  jurare  parati, 

Isti  jurati,  de  causa  certificati, 

Contra  te  dicent,  quod  servus  eras  tibi  dicent." 

Et  labor  et  lis,  et  dolor  et  vis,  causa  pudoris, 

Crescit  et  imminet,  et  male  terminet  omnibus  horis. 

In  medio  turba3  Robertus  dixit  in  urbe, 

"  Pro  me  vix  unus  loquitur,  nisi  dem  sibi  munus. 

Quisquis  mercedem  petit  a  me  regis  ad  sedem. 

Plus  prodest  caula  mini  regis  quam  facit  aula. 

Vestes,  res,  pecudes  dispendo  meas  meliores ; 

Ecce  domi  pergo  ;  vos  omnes  deprecor  ergo, 

Cras  discedamus  et  ad  abbatem  redeamus ; 

Huic  servire  volo,  conventum  spernere  nolo : 

Plus  valet  ante  mori  sub  fortuna  meliori, 

Quam  mendicare,  vel  mendicando  rogare. 

Si  victi  simus,  omnes  sine  fine  perimus." 

"  Verum  dixisti,"  dixerunt  protinus  isti, 

Ivo  de  Freseby,  Willelmus  Page,  Johannes, 

Human  Henricus,  Astel  Rogerus  et  Hugo, 

Robertus  Makeles,  Radulphus  Syre,  Thomasque, 


SATIRE  ON  THE  MEN  OF  STOCKTON.  51 

Rogerus  Montem  super,*  et  Rogerus  et  Honneyn. 

Stat  Christiana  cum  pellicia  veterana, 

Verba  nimis  vana  loquitur  quasi  turgida  rana. 

Mold  velut  insana  stetit  ubi  foret  una  Diana ; 

Lac  sibi  nee  lana  valuit  piperis  .ii.°  grana. 

"  O  dulcis  Christe !  "  dixerunt  ssepius  istse, 

"  Quid  faciemus  ]  pane  caremus,  jam  venit  aestas  ; 

Dampna  videmus,  farre  caremus,  crescit  egestas  : 

Sit  maledictus  ubique  Philippus,  nos  quia  fallit ; 

Exul  abibit,  raro  redibit,  et  heu  !  modo  psallit." 

Praepositus  villse,  perversus  proditor  ille, 

Gessit  vexillum,  credo  quod  poenitet  ilium. 

Rusticus  est  lippus  victus  sine  fine  Philippus, 

Sillaba  putrescit,  phi  sordida,  lippus  aquessit, 

Phi  nota  foetoris,  lippus  gravat  omnibus  horis, 
~*  Sit  procul  hinc  lippus,  sit  phi  procul,  ergo  Philippus,! 

Sit  procul  a  terra,  nunquam  vixit  sine  guerra : 

Philos  fertur  amor,  equus  ippus,  et  modo  Philippus 

Sortitur  nomen,  amisit  nominis  omen. 

Constas  Rogerus  est  frater  in  ordine  verus ; 

Defensor  bonus  est,  quicquid  loquitur  bene  prodest  ; 

Causam  defendit,  insensatos  reprehendit, 

Donee  discedunt  victi,  plangendo  recedunt. 

Amodo  plectuntur,  Rogerum  flendo  secuntur  ; 

Quilibet  ex  illis  sibi  dicit,  do  that  ti  will  is. 

Villae  majores  sunt  omnes  inferiores, 

Divitiis  plenus  nuper  fit  pauper  egenus, 

Et  modo  mendicat,  vix  est  sibi  qui  benedicat. 

Postquam  regnavit  Salomon  de  semine  David, 

Non  fuit  in  villa  discordia  turpior  ilia. 

Quid  faciet  servus,  nisi  servietl  et  puer  ejus 

Purus  servus  erit,  et  libertate  carebit. 

Judicium  legis  probat  hoc  et  curia  regis  ; 

Uncore  a  la  curt  le  rey  usum  meme  la  ley. 
11  Cor  leve,  vox  levis,  fidesque  brevis  in  muliere ; 

Femina  munere  dat  breve  ludere,  non  bene  flere.J 

*  i.  e.  Roger  At-Hill.     The  next  name  is  probably  Roger  at  Honneyn. 

t  These  were  proverbial  verses  in  the  middle  ages.  See  the  Glossary 
to  my  edition  of  Piers  Ploughman,  p.  593,  and  the  "  Selection  of  Latin 
Stories."  (Percy  Society  Publication),  p.  253. 

J  These  two  lines  are  placed  at  the  end  of  the  poem  in  the  MS.  in  a 
different  hand ;  they  seem  to  have  no  immediate  connection  with  it,  unless 
they  are  intended  to  apply  to  the  women  of  Stockton,  who  appear  to  have 
taken  an  active  part  in  the  quarrel,  particularly  the  two  whom  the  writer 
names  Christiana  and  Matilda  (Mold). 

Sf- 


SECTION  III.-POEMS   ON  THE  DIFFERENT 
CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

In  the  middle  ages,  society  was  divided  into  strongly  marked 
classes,  or  castes,  widely  separate  from  each  other.  The  religion  of 
papal  Rome  had  stifled  that  vital  principle  of  the  religion  of  Jesus, 
which  taught  us  to  look  upon  all  mankind  as  our  brethren.  It  is  in 
the  remains  of  early  popular  poetry  that  we  must  look  for  the  most 
perfect  picture  of  the  condition  of  these  classes,  and  of  their  mutual 
feelings  and  dependency.  Short  pieces  in  prose  and  verse  containing 
satirical  descriptions  of  or  attacks  upon  the  various  classes  are  found 
not  uncommonly  in  manuscripts  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth 
centuries,  and  they  all  merit  to  be  brought  to  light.  I  have  collected 
the  following  poems  of  this  class  (which  I  believe  are  all  inedited)  in 
preparing  materials  for  a  series  of  essays  on  the  condition  of  feudal 
society,  to  which  they  may  serve  as  pieces  justicatives,  though  some 
of  them  are  too  coarse  to  offer  to  the  public  in  a  popular  shape.  The 
classes  of  society  which  they  illustrate  are  the  villans,  the  townsmen 
or  bourgeoisie,  the  ribalds,  and  the  clergy. 

I.  The  VILLANS  (villani ;  in  old  French  and  early  English,  vilains,) 
were  the  serfs  of  the  soil.  Ordericus  Vitalis  (ed.  Le  Prevost,  vol.  ii, 
p.  223.)  tells  us  that  villa  signified  a  manor  (villas,  quas  a  manendo 
manerios  vulgo  vocamus)  ;  and  the  villani  were  the  peasants  who 
were  bound  to  the  soil  of  this  manor  (glebte  astricti)  without  the 
power  of  quitting  it,  the  cultivators  of  the  earth  who  were  ne 
cessarily  bought  and  sold  with  it.  Nearly  the  whole  body  of  the 
peasantry  were  in  this  position.  They  hated  their  masters,  who 
tyrannized  over  them ;  and  the  poetry  of  the  French  trouveurs,  who 
flattered  the  feudal  barons,  is  filled  with  expression  of  contempt 
towards  the  villans.  Several  satirical  pieces  directed  against  this 
class  are  printed  in  Barbazan,  torn,  iii,  p.  1,  Du  vilain  mire  ;  p.  28, 
Des  chevaliers,  des  clers,  et  des  vilains ;  p.  67,  Don  pet  au  vilain 
(also  printed  among  the  works  of  Rutebeuf,  torn,  i,  p.  280);  torn.  iv. 
p.  114,  Du  vilain  qui  conquist  Paradis  par  plait.  This  latter  piece 
was  perhaps  intended  to  ridicule  the  attempts  of  the  villans  to  obtain 
redress  against  the  oppressions  of  their  masters  in  courts  of  law,  as 
in  the  poem  already  given  in  the  present  volume  (p.  49)  where  they 
are  more  directly  satirized  in  Latin.  In  1833,  MM.  Michel  and 
Monmerque  commenced,  at  Paris,  the  publication  of  a  series  of  early 


ON  THE  VILLANS.  53 

tracts  under  the  general  title  of  Des  vilains,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  the  plan  was  not  carried  beyond  a  third  part.  The  first  two 
parts,  Des  xxiii.  manieres  de  vilains,  and  De  V  oustillement  au  vilain, 
are  extremely  curious ;  but  in  the  third  of  these  publications,  La 
riote  du  monde,  M.  Michel  has  wrongly  given  under  the  head  of 
villans  two  pieces  which  belong  the  class  of  ribalds,  of  which  we  shall 
have  to  speak  farther  on.  The  two  following  pieces  exhibit  strongly 
the  feeling  of  the  lords  of  the  soil,  and  of  the  fawning  minstrels, 
towards  the  oppressed  peasantry.  The  first  is  taken  from  the  Berne 
MS.  already  mentioned. 

ON  THE  VILLANS. 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  57,  v°.] 

Des  vilains. 

Or  escoutez  un  autre  conte. 
A  toz  les  vilains  doint  Dex  honte 
Qui  je  hui  matin  se  leverent  ; 
Et  si  di-je  pechie,  qu'il  erent 
Les  terres  qui  portent  le  ble  : 
Ne  en  iver,  ne  en  este 
Ne  finent-il  de  traveillier, 
Chascuns  jor,  por  ce  gaaigner 
Don  clerc  juvent,  et  autre  gent. 
Lo  pain  et  lo  vin  en  semant, 
Tot  lo  gaaignent  li  vilain, 
Et  tot  1'avon-nos  par  lor  main. 
II  sofrent  lo  froit  et  lo  chaut, 
Por  gaaignier ;  mais  moi  ne  chaut, 
Dex  male  honte  li  envoit. 
II  ne  sofrent  ne  chaut  ne  froit 
Por  nos,  mais  il  font  por  argent, 
II  nos  selent  moult  chierement 
Tote  la  rien  que  il  nos  vandent ; 
Totjorz  a  nos  enginer  tandent, 
Moult  sont  felon,  si  con  moi  sanble. 
Se  il  voient  .iij.  clers  ensanble, 
O  .iiij.,  en  une  conpeignie, 
Don  n'i  a  vilain  qui  ne  die, 
"  Esgardez  de  ces  clers  bolastres ; 
Par  ma  foi,  il  est  plus  clerjastres 
Que  berbiz  ne  que  autres  bestes." 
Max  feus  lor  broisse  les  testes 


54  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

As  vilains  qui  ce  vont  disant ! 

Plaust  a  Deu  lo  roi  puissant, 

Que  je  fusse  roi  des  vilains, 

Je  feisse  plus  de  mil  ainz 

Et  autretant  de  laz  feisse  : 

Dont  je  par  les  cos  les  preisse  : 

A  mal  port  fussent  arive  ! 

Ja  vilains  ne  fust  tant  ose, 

Que  il  un  mot  osast  parler, 

Ne  mais  por  del  pain  demander, 

O  por  sa  pastenostre  dire. 

Moult  aussent  en  moi  mal  sire, 

Et  totjorz  m'apelassent  maistre  ; 

Mais  por  ce  que  rois  ne  puis  estre, 

Vos  en  lairai  atant  lo  conte. 

Dex  lor  doint  a  toz  male  honte, 

Si  voirement,  con  je  voldroie, 

Dame-Dex  ma  proiere  en  oie. 

*• 

For  the  communication  of  the  following  short  satire  on  the  villans, 
as  well  as  for  many  other  favours,  I  am  indented  to  the  friendship  of 
M.  Achille  Jubinal,  so  well  known  by  his  various  publications  on 
medieval  literature  and  art.  The  gingling  play  upon  words  which 
appears  in  the  conclusion  of  each  line  is  not  uncommon  in  the  poetry 
of  the  trouveres ;  another  remarkable  instance  is  printed  in  the  col 
lection  of  Barbazan,  torn,  iii,  p.  444,  D'une  dame  de  Flandres  cuns 
chevalier  totti  a  un  autre  par  force. 

LE    DIT    DU    VILAIN    DESPENSIER. 

[From  the  Bib.  Royale  at  Paris,  No.  198,  fol.  281,  r8.] 
Ci  commence  le  dit  du  vilain  despensier. 

Ne  sai  a  quoi  gentis  horns  pense, 
Qui  vilain  charge  sa  despense. 
Vilains  de  cuer,  de  mal  porpens, 
Ycis  ne  puet  veoir  despens, 
Ainz  samble  con  1'amaine  pendre. 
Quant  il  voit  son  seignor  despendre 
Por  faire  honneur,  son  mal  penser 
N'eri  puet  couvrir  au  despenser  ; 
Car  chiere  en  fait  triste  et  pensive. 
Si  n'est  nus  qui  le  despens  sive, 


LE  VILAIN  DESPENSIER.  55 

Ne  Ten  hace,  tant  va  pensant 
D'ordure  est  despens  despensant ; 
Car  fust-il  es  mains  du  pendeur, 
Qui  ne  puet  veoir  despendeur. 
Bien  het  en  honneur  despendus. 
Vilains  despensiers  soit  pendus  ! 
Car  ja  honnor  ne  pensera, 
En  tout  ce  qu'il  despensera, 
Tant  a  vilaine  la  pensee 
En  ordure  faire  apensee, 
Qui  par  son  mal  apensement 
Fait  si  vilains  despensement, 
Qu'il  n'entra  en  sa  despense  ier, 
Ne  hui,  nus  qui  le  despensier 
Ne  hace,  et  dit,  "  s'on  le  pendoit, 
Ce  seroit  prex ;  "  s'il  despendoit 
Le  sien,  maint  mal  seroit  pensanz. 
Quant  il  Pautrui  est  despensanz 
Qui  recreaument  le  despent, 
A  son  cuer  toute  ordure  apent ; 
Qui  ainsi  le  va  despendant, 
II  va  tout  adez  le  pendant. 
Pendus  soit  sanz  despendement, 
Qui  fait  vilain  despendement, 
Dont  on  le  souhaide  pendu  ! 
Vilainement  a  despendu 
Les  biens  dont  il  est  despensi  vs ; 
Car  a  vilenie  est  pensivs, 
Com  vilains  de  mal  apenser 
A  autrui  despenz  despenser. 

Explicit  le  dit  du  vilain  despensier. 

*& 

II.  The  BOURGEOISIE.  The  free  inhabitants  of  towns  and  cities 
were  the  most  efficient  supporters  of  what  remained  of  popular 
liberty  under  the  feudal  system.  As  bodies  corporate  they  stood 
nearly  on  a  level  with  the  feudal  barons — for  they  were  so  many 
republics,  while  the  barons  were  despotic  kings,  owing  the  same 
general  allegiance  to  the  supreme  monarch  which  each  forgot  in 
occasional  moments  of  turbulence.  The  following  poem  from  the 
Berne  MS.  is  the  only  piece  of  the  kind  I  have  yet  met  with  directed 
against  this  class  of  society.  It  opens  with  the  ordinary  complaint 
of  the  minstrels  in  the  thirteenth  century,  that  the  liberality  of  the 
barons  was  diminishing,  and  that  the  minstrels  and  jogelours  received 


56  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

no  longer  the  same  encouragement  at  their  hands.  In  fact  a  great 
blow  had  been  already  given  to  the  power  of  the  lords  of  the  soil,  and 
they  began  to  feel  the  necessity  of  limiting  their  extravagances.  The 
writer  of  the  following  poem  attributes  the  change  to  the  increasing 
prevalence  of  avarice  ;  and  goes  on  to  describe  the  general  degen 
eracy  of  the  time.  He  describes  avarice  as  the  especial  vice  of  the 
bourgeoisie :  "  the  burgess  has  a  bud  or  sprig  (borjon,  perhaps  in 
tended  as  a  pun  upon  the  name)  which  is  called  Take,"  and  he  is 
accused  of  taking  all  he  could  of  those  who  came  to  his  hostle. 

Letting  of  lodgings,  and  providing  for  the  lodgers,  were  the  chief 
means  of  extortion  in  the  hands  of  the  inhabitants  of  towns  in  the 
middle  ages,  and  appear  to  have  been  the  cause  of  much  ill-feeling. 
In  the  Universities  it  was  found  necessary  to  make  special  laws,  and 
^appoint  particular  officers  (named  taxors),  to  protect  the  students 
against  them.  They  form  the  subject  of  a  very  curious  anonymous 
Latin  poem  apparently  of  the  thirteenth  century,  entitled  Peregri- 
nus,  printed  in  Polycarp  Leyser's  Historia  Poetarum  et  Poematum 
Medii  ./Evi,  p.  2099.  The  author  of  this  poem  describes  the  arts  em 
ployed  to  allure  the  traveller,  and  the  extortions  to  which  he  is  sub 
jected.  Persons  it  appears  were  employed  to  watch  for  the  arrival  of 
strangers,  and  to  enter  into  conversation  with  them,  under  pretence  of 
being  of  the  same  country,  which  ended  in  recommending  a  lodging — 
Ad  finem  tandem  properans  inquirit  ab  ipsis, 

Cujus  in  hospitio  membra  levare  velint ; 
Commendansque  suum  dominum,  suaderisque,  quod  ejus 

Intrent  hospitium,  talia  lina  jacit: 
"  Vobis  censulere  teneor,  quia  compatriotse 

Prsesidium  debet  quilibet  esse  suo. 
Exulis  est,  quod  in  exilio  sint  compatriotae, 

Compatiens  veram  continuando  fidem. 
Dicite,  nurn  nostis,  fama  referente,  fidelem 

Gerhardum,  notum  laude  fideque  virum  ? 
Hunc  ego  prse  reliquis  burgi  burgensibus  hujus 

Elegi,  dominus  esset  ut  ille  meus." 

The  whole  poem,  extending  to  near  five  hundred  lines,  is  extremely 
curious.  A  similar  description  of  the  tricks  of  the  burgesses  in  letting 
out  their  lodgings  to  strangers  is  given  in  the  Entheticus  of  John  of  • 
Salisbury,  recently  edited  by  Professor  Petersen  of  Hamburgh  (lin. 
1533,  et  seqq.),  which  the  editor  has  I  think  wrongly  interpreted  as 
referring  to  the  Hostles  in  the  University  of  Oxford,  although  Pro 
fessor  Petersen  has  endeavoured  to  support  his  view  of  the  subject 
by  several  ingenious  arguments.  The  context  of  John  of  Salisbury's 
observations,  compared  with  the  Latin  poem  just  alluded  to,  appears 


LE  BORJOIS  BORJON.  57 

to  me  to  have  a  more  general  application.  Moreover,  I  doubt  much 
if  Hostles  of  the  description  he  supposes  existed  in  Oxford  as  early  as 
the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century. 

LE     BORJOIS     BORJON, 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  114,  r°  ] 

Por  beles  rises  center, 

Soloient  menestrel  monter 

En  grant  enor  et  en  grant  pris, 

Avoir  assez  et  vair  et  gris, 

Chevax  et  deniers  a  despandre, 

Tant  con  il  en  voloient  prandre  ; 

Mais  par  foi,  valor  et  proece, 

Cortoisie,  sen,  et  largece, 

Et  enors,  estoient  alors 

En  graignor  pris  qu'il  ne  sont  ors  : 

Car  iarjece  est  tote  perie 

En  clers  et  en  chevalerie, 

En  dames  et  en  damoiseles, 

Qui  n'oent  mais  choses  noveles. 

Car  Tan  ne  trove  qui  rien  done, 

Ne  qui  a  celui  gueredone 

Qui  de  bien  dire  s'entremet, 

Et  son  tans  et  s'entente  i  met 

A  faire  biax  moz  et  en  dire 

Chose  pui  face  la  gent  rire. 

Por  ce  que  li  don  sont  chau, 

Sont  menestrel  dechau, 

Par  maintes  foiz  de  joie  faire, 

Et  de  biax  moz  dire  ne  traire, 

Que  il  aussent  fait  savoir, 

O  il  cuidassent  prou  avoir. 

Or  escotez,  fait-il  silance, 

Je  vos  dirai  en  audiauce 

Qu'anors  dechiet,  et  honte  avive, 

Que  nus  horn  qui  en  cest  mont  vive 

Por  biax  moz,  ne  por  bel  parler, 

Por  solaz,  ne  por  deporter, 

Por  deduit,  ne  por  rien  qu'il  die, 

Ne  trovera  mais  cortoisie. 

Car  il  est  avis  a  plusors 

Qu'enors  est  honte,  et  honte  anors. 

Por  ce  q'ansi  lor  est  avis, 

i 


58  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES   OF  SOCIETY. 

Encontre  enor  drece  son  vis 
Mauvaistie,  qui  enor  confont, 
Mauvaistie  croist  et  enor  font, 
Proece  muert  et  honte  vit, 
Traison  dance  et  agaiz  rit, 
Charite  crie  et  pitie  plore, 
Joie  est  desoz  et  duel  desore, 
Miau  devientfel,  et  fel  espice  : 
Por  quoi  est-ce  1  Car  avarice 
A  partot  largece  abatue ; 
Larjece,  qui  s'est  conbatue 
Centre  avarice,  ne  se  puet 
Plus  conbatre  ;  par  force  estuet 
Foir  s'en ;  mais  sachiez  de  voir, 
Se  ses  armes  poist  avoir, 
Trop  se  conbatist  volantiers. 
Mais  enors  qui  est  ses  destriers, 
Ne  puet  core,  que  que  nus  die. 
Ses  escuz  est  de  cortoisie, 
Et  ses  hiaumes  est  de  proece, 
Sa  beniere  est  de  gentillece. 
Orgoil,  qui  contre  raison  vet, 
Sele  a  d'angin,  et  frain  d'agait, 
Poitrail  d'envie,  estier  de  honte  ; 
Et  li  chevax  conmant  a  non 
Avarice,  qui  desus  monte  ? 
Li  chevax  a  non  traison, 
Ferre  de  guile  et  de  losanges  ; 
Et  de  s'espee  sont  les  ranges 
D'orgoil  dore,  de  faussetez. 
Qui  de  tele  espee  est  navrez, 
N'en  puet  garir,  ce  est  la  fins  ; 
Car  convoitise  est  li  velins 
Dont  li  plusor  sont  engrote. 
Sa  lance  est  desloiaute, 
Et  sa  beniere  a  non  envie  : 
Orgoil,  sorfait,  malvaise  vie, 
II  sont  escrit  es  toz  max  vices. 
Covoitise  devant  les  lices, 
La  honie,  la  desloiaux, 
Fait  des  plus  riches  ses  chastiax. 
Tot  est  chau  en  tel  afaire, 
Li  riche  ri'en  ont  mais  que  faire 
D'anor,  ne  jamais  n'ont  amee  ; 


LE  BORJOIS  BORJON.  59 

Por  c'est  itex,  la  bestornee, 
Toz  cist  mondes  est  bestorne  ; 
Tot  cist  max  siegles  est  tornez 
Devers  deiable  par  envie. 
Je  dis  que  cil  ne  manti  mie, 
Qui  dist  que  cist  siegles  faudroit : 
Par  quoi  nos  veon  orandroit, 
Que  li  siegles  est  defailliz. 
Por  ce  lo  dit  que  des  failliz 
Est  plains  li  siegles  en  toz  sans. 
Onques  mais  ne  fu  si  chier  tans, 
Ne  tel  herboz,  ne  tel  destrece, 
Con  il  est  herboz  de  larjece, 
Por  cest  herboz  que  nus  n'enlieve 
En  proece,  proece  grieve. 
Es  riches,  c'est  chose  provee, 
N'est  jamais  proece  trovee, 
Chies  evesque,  ne  chies  provoire. 
Borjois  resont  tot  dis  en  foire, 
D'angin,  d'agait,  et  de  corion  ; 
Car  en  borjois  a  un  borjon, 
Qui  a  non  Prandre,  et  li  aprant 
Qu'il  n'est  pas  borgois  qui  ne  prant 
De  franc  home  ce  q'an  puet  prandre ; 
Qant  borgois  en  puet  un  sorprandre, 
A  son  ostel  et  a  son  oste, 
Tel  ostel  li  fait  q'an  li  oste 
Del  suen  ce  que  il  puet  oster, 
Tant  con  il  se  puet  acoster 
De  prandre,  tant  lo  vialt  atraire  ; 
En  la  fin,  qant  il  n'a  que  traire, 
Et  Ji  borjois  en  a  tot  trait, 
Lors  li  sont  moult  sovant  retrait 
Ses  enprunz,  s'il  li  fait  enui ; 
Car  onques  borjois  ne  quenui 
Qui  povre  chevalier  amast, 
Ne  qui  volantiers  s'acointast 
De  lecheor  a  povre  robe  : 
Borjois  n'aime  ome,  s'il  ne  1'  robe  ; 
Ja  tant  n'ert  sages  ne  cortois. 
Itel  borjon  ont  li  borjois. 

III.  The  RIBALDS  (ribaldi),  to  whom  the  terms  lechers  (leccatores), 
harlots,   and  various  others,  were  applied,   formed  a  large  class  of 


60  POEMS  ON  THE   CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

society  in  the  feudal  ages,  including  the  worst  portion  of  the 
population,  those  who  lived  upon  the  rich  and  earned  their  life  by 
low  and  degrading  offices.  They  were  in  fact  men  devoid  of  cha 
racter  and  of  moral  principle.  They  are  frequently  alluded  to  in 
medieval  writers.  Barbazan  has  published  Le  credo  au  ribaut, 
(torn.  iv.  p.  445),  and  Le  paternostre  au  ribaus.*  And  among  the 
works  of  Rutebeuf  there  is  a  brief  poem  entitled  Li  diz  des  ribaux  de 
greive  (torn,  i,  p.  209,  ed.  Jubinal.)  This  class  included  the  minstrels 
and  joglours,  as  well  as  women  of  ill-fame.  There  is  a  very  curious 
poem,  printed  by  M.  Robert  in  a  brief  collection  of  Fabliaux  Inedits 
(Paris,  1834)  and  by  M.  Jubinal  in  his  notes  to  Rutebeuf  (torn.  i. 
p.  331)  entitled  Les  deux  troveors  ribauz,  in  which  two  jogelours 
are  introduced  contending  for  superiority  in  their  avocation.  The 
following  piece,  in  the  Berne  MS.,  bears  the  title  escomeniemenz 
au  lecheor  (MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  47,  r°) ;  in  a  manuscript  in 
the  Royal  Library  at  Paris  (from  which  it  is  here  printed)  it  bears 
the  incorrect  title  L'escomeniement  ausjalous,  which  has  been  hastily 
given  by  the  scribe  from  the  words  of  the  first  line.  The  language 
is  characteristic  of  the  infamous  class  to  which  it  refers. 


THE  RIBALD'S  EXCOMMUNICATION. 

[From  MS.  Bibl.  Royale,  No.  7218,  fol.  194.] 

Li  escomeniemenz  au  lecheor. 

J'escommeni  toz  les  jalous. 
Qui  de  lor  fames  ne  sont  cous. 
J'escommeni  povre  orguillous, 
Et  moien  homme  delitous, 
Et  jone  homme  relegious, 
Et  fol  vilain  luxurious. 
J'escommeni,  non  pas  a  gas, 
Qui  bien  menjue,  s'il  n'est  gras, 
Et  qui  a  fame  et  fout  ses  dras, 
Et  tavernier  qui  n'a  hanas  ; 
Riche  homme  qui  afuble  sas. 

*  This  is  the  same  poem  as  that  of  which  I  have  given  a  fragment  in 
the  Introduction  to  the  Poems  attributed  to  Walter  Mapes,  p.  xl,  under 
the  title  of  Paternostre  am  gouliardois.  I  may  take  this  observation  of 
stating  that  there  is  an  early  French  version  of  the  Latin  poem  De 
Phillide  et  Flora,  ib.  p.  258,  entitled  Ci  commence  de  Florance  et  de 
Blancheflor,  alias,  Jugement  d' amour,  printed  in  Barbazan,  torn,  iv,  p.  354, 
which  I  overlooked  when  editing  the  work  just  alluded  to. 


THE  RIBALD'S  EXCOMMUNICATION.  61 

J'escommeni  moine  qui  sone  ; 
Mais  j'aim  celui  qui  fout  et  done, 
Et  va  seoir  jouste  la  tonne, 
Et  dist,  "  Traiez  sor  sette  gonne," 
J'escommeni  la  grant  mesnie 
Qui  refuse  char  et  aillie, 
Et  la  dame  bien  ensignie 
Qui  fet  bone  toile  dougie, 
Dont  sa  chemise  est  rembougie. 
J'escommeni  sanz  nule  aloingne, 
De  par  St.  Pierre  de  Couloingne, 
Qui  premiers  planta  eschaloingne  ; 
Qui  sa  fame  ne  bat  et  coingne 
Ansi  com  toile  de  Borgoingne. 
J'escommeni,  et  si  ai  droit, 
Vielle  putain  qui  se  recroit, 
Et  moine  qui  en  cloistre  poit, 
Et  qui  va  foutre  sans  vit  roit, 
Et  qui  roeille  s'il  ne  voit  ; 
Homme  qui  tramble  s'il  n'a  froit. 
J'escommeni  les  useriers, 
Et  les  provos  et  les  voiers  ; 
Vilain  qui  devient  chevaliers  ; 
Jougleors  qui  n'est  mencongers. 
J'escommeni  qui  foutre  n'ose, 
Et  pecheor  qui  het  alose, 
Et  homme  las  qui  ne  repose. 
J'escommeni  putain  gouesche  ; 
Vielle  putain  qui  se  fet  fresche, 
Quar  toz  jors  art  de  foutre  et  seche. 
J'escommeni  a  .i.  seul  mot 
Sage  homme  qui  resamble  sot, 
Et  eschacier  qui  va  le  trot  ; 
Riche  homme  pui  conte  son  pot 
A  eels  qui  sont  a  son  escot. 
Encor  escommeni-je  plus 
Riche  homme  qui  ferme  son  huis, 
Et  va  mengier  en  solier  sus. 
J'escommeni  qui  Dieu  n'apele  ; 
Et  que  vers  son  seignor  revele ; 
Et  chevalier  qui  monte  en  sele, 
Qui  het  amor  de  damoisele. 
J'escommeni,  qui  que  s'en  rie, 
Juyf  qui  croit  sainte  Marie  ; 


62  POEMS   ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

Et  nonain  qui  ist  d'abeie, 
Quar  tant  por  sont  de  foible  vie, 
Que  toz  jors  ont  de  foutre  envie. 
J'escommeni  orde  putain, 
Puisqu'ele  tient  le  cul  en  vain, 
Et  le  vit  fiert  jusqu'a  1'estrain  ; 
Et  qui  pestrit  s'il  n'a  le  vain. 
J'escommeni  tout  autrement, 
De  par  Jhesu  omnipotent, 
Le  pledeor  qui  het  argent, 
Et  qui  ne  fet  faus  jugement. 
J'escommeni,  quar  Dieu  envie, 
Chevalier  qui  a  four  s'apuia  ; 
Et  bouchier  qui  vent  pore  por  truie  ; 
Et  homme  qui  file  desnuie  ; 
Et  dame  qui  bien  ne  s'essuie. 
J'escommeni  qui  chemin  ere  ; 
Et  enfant  qui  n'aime  sa  mere  ; 
Provoire  qui  ne  se  fet  rere  ; 
Clerc  qui  ne  set  chanter  ne  lere. 
J'escommeni  au  diemaine 
Le  jougleor  qui  het  estraine  ; 
Et  charretier  qui  het  avaine  ; 
Et  homme  mort  qui  puis  alaine. 
Je  les  escommeni  et  nouce, 
Homme  morveus  qui  ne  se  mouche. 
J'escommeni  de  par  le  pape 
Vilairi  qui  a  nazelin  lape  ; 
Et  qui  roisin  apele  grape  ; 
Et  qui  sa  bele  fame  entrape  ; 
Qui  mantel  afuble  sus  chape, 

A  chemin  ee  ; 

Et  lechoer  qui  het  peuree 
Et  bone  savor  destempree. 
J'escommeni  en  ceste  lingne 
Vieille  putain  qui  ne  se  guingne, 
Et  la  jone  qui  ne  pingne. 
J'escommeni  tout  demanois 
Gels  qui  forment  claiment  tremois, 
Et  qui  les  .iiij.  apele  .iij., 
Et  qui  Norment  tient  por  Anglois 
Et  Angevin  por  Hurepois. 
J'escommeni  tout  sanz  faloe 
Le  fevre  qui  cheval  n'encloe, 


THE  RIBALD'S  EXCOMMUNICATION.  63 

Et  chevalier  qui  fet  la  moe, 
Et  lecheor  qui  se  tient  doe. 
J'escomineni  tout  sanz  droiture 
Tavernier  a  loial  mesure, 
Et  provost  qui  aime  droiture. 
J'escommeni  tout  entrefait 
Norrice  qui  n'a  point  de  lait 
Quant  li  enfes  a  soi  le  trait ; 
Et  qui  le  fol  maine  a  son  plait, 
Se  il  a  escient  le  fet. 
J'escommeni  povre  mercier, 
Qui  n'ose  monstrer  son  mestier, 
Qui  prent  maaille  por  denier, 
Quar  il  n'i  puet  riens  gaaignier. 
J'escommeni  sanz  mile  faille 
Oiseleor  qui  ne  prent  quaille; 
Et  qui  achate  ble  por  paille  ; 
Et  changeor  qui  argent  bailie, 
Qui  prent  puioise  por  maaille. 
J'escommeni  le  marcheant 
Qui  ne  gaaingne  poi  ou  grant ; 
Fame  qui  gete  son  enfant ; 
Et  lecheor  qui  vin  espant. 
J'escommeni  pute  espousee 
Qui  de  lecheor  n'est  privee. 
J'escommeni  tout  sans  noisier 
Qui  eve  boit  a  son  mengier, 
Por  que  il  ait  vin  en  celier, 
Ne  tonel  mis  sor  son  chantier. 
Honis  soit-il  de  saint  Richier 
Qui  se  blasme  de  son  mestier  ! 
Or  les  escommeni  trestous, 
Fors  seul  putains  et  lecheours. 
Que  Diex  les  mete  a  granz  honors ! 
Toz  jors  portent  chapiaus  de  flors  ! 
Or  assoudrai,  qoi  pue  nus  die, 
Qui  tient  le  hanap,  se  il  pie 
Tant  qu'il  ait  la  teste  estordie. 

I  have  already  stated  that  the  class  of  ribalds  included  women  of 
ill-fame.  The  following  short  but  curious  poem  insinuates  that 
these  latter  owed  their  support  chiefly  to  the  Romish  clergy,  while 
the  other  sex  lived  upon  the  superfluities  of  the  knights.  It  may  be 
observed  that  very  imperfect  abstracts  of  this  and  the  preceding 


64  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

poem  are  given  in  the  last  edition  of  Le  Grand  d'Aussi's  Fabliaux  et 
Contes. 

DES  PUTAINS  ET  DES  LECHEORS. 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  42,  r°.] 

Quant  Diex  ot  estore  le  moride, 

Si  con  il  est  a  la  reonde, 

Et  quanqu'il  convint  dedanz, 

Trois  ordres  establi  de  genz, 

Et  fist  el  siecle  demoranz, 

Clers  et  chevaliers,  laboranz. 

Les  chevaliers  toz  asena 

As  terres,  et  as  clers  dona 

Les  aumosnes  et  les  dimages ; 

Puis  asena  les  laborages 

As  laboranz,  por  laborer. 

Quant  ce  ot  fait,  sans  demorer 

D'iluec  parti  s'en  ala. 

Quant  il  s'en  partoit,  veu  a 

Une  torbe  de  tricheors, 

Si  con  putains  et  lecheors  ; 

Poi  ot  ale,  quant  1'aprochierent 

A  crier  entr'ax  conmencierent ; 

"  Estez,  sire,  parlez  a  nos, 

Ne  nos  lessiez  ;  o  alez  vos  ? 

Darrien  que  somes  asene, 

Si  avez  as  autres  done." 

Nostre  sire  s'es  esgarda, 

Quant  les  oi,  si  demanda 

.S.*  qui  o  lui  estoit, 

De  cele  gent  qui  la  estoit. 

"  C'est  une  gent,"  fet-il,  '*'  sorfete, 

Que  vos  avez  autresi  fete, 

Con  cax  qui  de  vos  moult  se  fient, 

Si  huient  apres  vos  et  crient 

Que  lor  faciez  asenement." 

Nostre  sires,  isnelement, 

Ancois  que  riens  lor  respondist, 

As  chevaliers  vint,  si  lor  dist, 

"  Vos  cui  les  terres  abandoi, 

Les  lecheors  vos  bail  et  doin, 

Que  vos  d'ax  grant  cure  preigniez, 

*  Sic  MS.  perhaps   a  word  is  wanting,  and  it    should  be  S.  Pierre, 
(St.  Peter.) 


DES  PUTAINS  ET  DES  LECHEORS.  65 

Et  qu'entor  vos  les  retaigniez, 

Que  il  n'aient  de  vos  soufraite 

Ne  ma  parole  ne  soit  fraite ; 

Mes  donez  lor  a  lor  demant. 

Et  a  vos,  saignor  clerc,  conmant 

Les  putains  moult  bien  a  garder  ; 

Issi  le  vos  voil  conmander." 

Selonc  cestui  conmandement 

Ne  font-il  nul  trespassement  ; 

Car  il  les  tienerit  totes  chieres, 

Si  lest  tienent  a  beles  chieres, 

Del  miax  qu'il  ont,  et  del  plus  bel. 

Selonc  lou  sens  de  mon  fablel, 

Se  vos  1'avez  bien  entendu, 

Sont  tuit  li  chevalier  perdu, 

Qui  les  lecheors  tienent  vis, 

Et  d'ax  les  font  sovent  eschis, 

Aler  les  font  sovent  deschauz. 

Mes  putains  ont  peh^ons  chauz, 

Dobles  mantiax,  dobles  sorcoz. 

Petit  truevent  de  tiels  escoz 

Li  lecheors  as  chevaliers  ; 

Et  si  sont-il  moult  bons  parliers ; 

Ne  lor  donent  for  viex  drapiax, 

Et  petit  de  lor  bons  morsiax  : 

En  gitant,  con  as  chiens,  lor  ruent. 

Mes  putains  sovent  robes  muent, 

Avec  les  clers  cochent  et  lievent, 

Et  sor  lor  depanses  enbrievent. 

Li  clerc  lo  font  por  ax  salver ; 

Mes  li  chevaliers  sont  aver 

As  lecheors  ;  si  se  traissent. 

Quant  del  conmandement  Dieu  issent. 

Mes  ce  ne  font  li  clerc  noiant ; 

II  sont  large,  et  obediant 

As  putains  ;  1'oevre  le  tesmoingne  : 

Et  despendent  lor  patremoinne, 

Et  les  biens  au  crucefie 

En  tel  gent  sont-il  emploie, 

Des  rentes,  des  dismes,  lo  bien. 

A  cest  conte  font  li  clerc  bien 

Desor  toz  les  autres  que  font. 

Se  mes  fabliax  dit  voir,  done  sont 

Par  cest  conmant  li  clerc  sauve, 

Et  li  chevalier  sont  dampne. 


66  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

IV.  The  CLERCS.  No  class  of  society  was  more  frequently  a 
subject  of  satire  in  the  poetry  of  the  middle  ages  than  the  clergy. 
Their  general  character  for  morality  was  exceedingly  low  ;  and,  as 
we  have  already  seen  in  the  foregoing  poem,  their  most  general  vice 
appears  to  have  been  incontinency,  which  was  a  natural  result  of  the 
Romish  system  of  celibacy.  The  following  poem  recommends  an  ef 
fective  precaution  against  the  corruption  of  the  clergy  in  this  respect. 

DES  CLERS. 

[MS.   Berne,   No.   354,  fol.   57,  r°.] 
Ci  commance  des  clers. 

Par  S.  Guillaume  de  Pontoise, 
La  rien  des  clers,  dont  plus  me  poise, 
Je  ne  sai  se  raison  lo  done, 
Si  est  que  ausi  grant  corone 
A  li  fos  clers  comme  li  sages. 
De  ce  di-je  que  c'est  oltrages, 
Que  quant  avient  que  il  asanblent, 
As  corones  si  s'antresanblent 
Igaument,  que  je  ne  connois 
L'arcevesque  de  I'arcemois. 
Si  fust  droiz  que  chascuns  eust, 
Selonc  la  lettre  qu'il  saust, 
Corone  faite  a  sa  meniere  : 
L'an  en  tondist  maint  par  darriere, 
Et  par  encoste,  et  par  devant, 
De  lone,  de  le,  et  en  pandant, 
Et  en  bellonc  et  en  travers  ; 
Lors  fussent-il  assez  devers, 
S'an  saust  en  lo  maistre  eslire. 
Mais  ore  n'en  savon  que  dire, 
Que  li  plus  fox,  quant  vient  a  feste, 
Sanble  ligistre  de  la  teste. 
Si  en  connois  assez  de  tex, 
Qui  n'ont  pas  si  bien  lor  autex  ; 
Lor  autex,  me  lor  meschines  ; 
Maux  feus  lor  arde  les  eschines ! 
Dex  !  moie  corpe,  mais  c'est  max, 
Des  prevoires  qui  sont  si  fax, 
Que  lor  aornemanz  sont  sales, 
Et  les  ordes  jumanz,  les  pales, 
Ont  les  rices  ginples  loiees. 
Ne  sont  pas  si  bien  poploiees 


ON  THE  CLERKS.  67 

Les  asnesses  con  eles  deussent : 

Et  se  li  haut  prelat  aussent 

Deii  amor,  n'alast  pas  ensi. 

Qui  plus  a  1'esvesque  servi, 

Plus  sera  enore  au  sone. 

Et  en  Marz  que  Tan  les  ordone, 

Lors  doivent  aler  li  prevoire 

As  ordres,  si  vont  a  la  foire, 

For  ce  foire  que,  qant  i  movent, 

Cez  qui  plus  grant  chatel  esmovent, 

Plus  seront  enores  a  cort, 

Por  la  simonie  qui  cort. 

Ne  la  bons  clers,  tant  lise  bien, 

S'il  n'a  de  quoi  il  die  "  tien," 

Ni  ert  ordonez,  por  rien  qui  die. 

Or  di-je,  qui  que  me  desdie, 

Qu'il  fait  pechie  qui  enpersone 

Les  autres  clers,  et  qui  lor  done 

Les  granz  rantes  que  il  despandent 

En  mauvais  us,  et  totjorz  tandent 

A  mal  faire  tant  con  il  vivent. 

Trop  sevent  clers  de  raauvais  art ; 

Ja  n'ert  fame  qui  d'ax  ce  gart, 

C'ele  iert  contesse  o  meresse, 

Qu'il  ne  facent  lor  volante, 

A  trez  que  soit  lone  terme  passe. 

Por  ce,  di-je,  bieri  exploitast, 

Qui  toz  les  enfanz  escoillast 

Qui  doivent  estre  a  letre  mis : 

Ensi  fust  bien,  ce  rn'est  avis, 

Que  1'an  les  senast  toz  a  lait, 

Tot  autresin  conme  1'an  fait 

Un  porcel  o  une  autre  beste. 

Tex  herbergast  clerc,  par  ma  teste, 

Qui  n'en  ose  nul  herbergier, 

Que  par  nuit  ne  s'alast  couchier, 

Quant  a  pissier  levez  seroit, 

En  tel  leu  o  il  ne  devroit, 

Se  1'uis  de  la  chanbre  est  desfers. 

Ci  fenist  li  fabliax  des  clers. 

Ci  fenist  des  clerz. 

In  the  following  fabliau,  taken  also  from  the  Berne  MS.,  the 
reader  will  see  in  what  light  the  clergy,  and  even  the  dignitaries 
of  the  church,  figured  in  the  popular  tales  of  the  middle  ages.  There 


68  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

can  be  no  doubt  that  it  is  a  correct  picture,  though  a  little  carica 
tured,  of  the  time.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  these  tales 
were  repeated  at  the  tables  of  the  barons  and  princes,  and  very 
frequently  in  the  presence  of  the  clergy  themselves.  I  have  sup 
pressed  the  title  which  this  poem  bears  in  the  MS.,  which  however  is 
given  in  the  description  of  its  contents  in  M.  Jubinal's  Lettre  au 
directeur  de  V Artiste.  A  brief  abstract  of  this  fabliau  is  given  in  the 
last  edition  of  Le  Grand  d'Aussy.  A  more  modern  story,  containing 
many  points  of  analogy  to  this  fabliau,  will  be  found  in  the  Contes 
et  Joyeux  Devis  of  Bonaventure  des  Periers,  Nouvelle  xxxvi,  Du 
cure  et  de  sa  chambriere  ;  et  de  sa  lexive  quil  lavoit ;  et  comment  it 
traita  son  evdque  et  ses  chevaux,  et  tout  son  train. 

THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  PRIEST. 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  88,  v°.] 

Uns  evesques  jadis  estoit, 
Qui  moult  volantiers  s'acointoit 
De  dames  et  de  damoiseles  ; 
Qu'il  en  trovoit  asez  de  beles, 
Et  il  lor  donoit  largemant. 
Por  ce  faisoient  son  conmant ; 
Car  totes  beent  mais  au  prendre, 
Et  cil  qui  ne  lor  a  que  tandre, 
N'en  aura  jamais  bon  servise, 
Ceste  costume  ont  aprise. 
Pres  de  la  cite  de  Baies, 
Ice  m'est  avis  a  .ij.  Hues, 
Ot  li  evesques  un  repaire  : 
Riche  maison  i  ot  fait  faire, 
Je  ne  sai  la  vile  vo  nomer  ; 
Sovent  s'i  aloit  deporter 
Li  evesques,  qant  i  voloit, 
Por  ce  que  loin  de  vile  estoit. 
Uns  prestes  estut  en  la  vile 
Qui  moult  sot  d'angin  et  de  guile  ; 
Sa  fame  avec  lui  avoit 
Li  prestes,  que  il  moult  amoit, 
Et  moult  estoit  preuz  et  cortoise  : 
Et  a  1'evesque  moult  en  poise, 
Si  li  a  par  mainte  foiz  dit, 
Et  devee  et  contredit, 
Que  il  1'ostast  de  sa  maison. 
Li  prestes,  par  bele  raison, 


THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  PRIEST.  69 

Li  dist  que  sofrir  ne  s'an  puet. 

"  Par  noz  ordres  faire  1'estuet," 

Dit  li  evesques  araumant, 

"  Ou  autremant  je  vos  defFant 

Que  vos  ne  bevez  ja  de  vin." 

"  Sire,  foi  que  doi  St.  Martin," 

Fait  li  prestes,  "  ainz  m'an  tandrai 

De  vin,  si  que  n'en  buvrai." 

Atant  repaire  en  sa  maison 

Li  prestes,  et  met  a  raison 

Li  prestes,*  que  il  la  trovee  : 

"  Par  Deu,"  fait-il,  "  dame  Auberee, 

Or  m'est  il  trop  mal  avenu, 

Que  Fevesques  m'a  deffandu 

A  boivre  vin,  et  devee." 

"  Voire,  sire,  par  les  sainz  De, 

Ja  en  bevez-vos  volantiers  ; 

Or  est-il  trop  vostre  guerriers, 

Qui  vin  a  boivre  vos  defFant : 

Biau  sire,  son  conmandemant 

Covient  tenir,  ja  n'en  bevroiz  ; 

Mais,  par  foi,  os  lo  humeroiz ; 

Qant  li  boivres  vos  est  veez, 

Li  burners  vos  est  conmandez, 

De  par  moi,  si  lo  vos  enseing." 

Li  prestes  n'ot  mie  en  desdaing 

Ce  que  la  dame  conmanda, 

Li  boivre  laissa,  si  huima, 

Qant  lui  plot,  et  mestier  en  ot, 

Tant  que  li  evesques  lo  sot : 

Je  ne  sai  qui  1'an  encuza. 

Lo  provoire  tantost  manda, 

Si  li  defFant  que  il  gardast 

Que  jamais  d'oie  ne  manjast, 

Tant  con  sa  fame  aust  o  lui. 

"  Sire,"  fait-il,  "  a  grant  enui 

Me  torne  ce,  et  a  contrere, 

Que  vos  me  conmandez  a  faire ; 

Mais  tot  ce  ne  vos  vaut  noiant, 

Je  ne  m'en  irai  pas  riant." 

Li  prestes  plus  n'i  demora, 

A  sa  fame  tot  reconta 

Con  il  a  les  oes  perdues, 

*    An  error  of  the  MS.  for  la  prestesse. 


70  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

L'evesques  li  a  deffendues  : 

"  Dame,"  fait-il,  "  jure  li  ai, 

Jamais  d'oe  ne  mangerai." 

"  Voire,"  fait-ele,  "  est-il  ensi  1 

Moult  vos  a  ore  maubailli," 

Fait  ele,  "  li  vilains  escharz ; 

Par  foi  vos  manjeroiz  des  jarz 

A  plante,  qui  que  s'an  repante, 

Car  vos  en  avez  plus  de  .xxx." 

"  E  non  Deu,"  fait-il,  "  je  1'  creant." 

Ensinc  lo  refist  longuemant, 

Tant  qu'a  1'evesques  refu  dit, 

Et  cil  li  refait  contredit, 

Que  jamais  ne  gise  sor  coute. 

"  Par  foi,  9i  a  parole  estote," 

Fait  li  prestes,  "  que  vos  me  dites  ; 

Je  ne  sui  reclus  ne  hermites  ; 

Mais  des  qu'il  vos  vient  a  plaisir, 

Par  quoi  je  n'i  doie-je  gesir  ?" 

"  Ensinc  lo  t'estuet-il  a  faire." 

Atant  se  r'est  mis  au  repaire, 

A  sa  fame  se  r'est  clame  ; 

Et  cele  dit,  "  Oir  poez 

Grant  rage,  et  grant  forsenerie  ; 

Bien  sai  que  ne  vos  aime  mie 

Li  evesques,  ne  m'a  point  chier  ; 

Mais  tot  ce  ne  li  a  mestier, 

Ne  ne  monte  .ij.  engevins  : 

Un  lit  vos  ferai  de  cousins  ; 

Bien  le  ferai  soef  et  mol." 

"  Dame,  foi  que  je  doi  saint  Pol," 

Fait  li  prestes,  "  vos  dites  bien, 

Or  ne  lo  dot-je  mais  de  rien, 

Puis  q'ainsinc  m'avez  conseillie." 

Apres  ce  n'a  gaires  targie 

Li  evesques,  que  il  ala 

En  la  vile,  si  demora 

Une  semaine  tote  entiere, 

Ainz  que  il  retornast  arriere. 

Une  borjoi.se  en  la  vile  ot 

Que  li  evesques  moult  amot, 

Q'a  chascune  nuit,  sanz  faillir, 

Aloit  avoque  li  gesir, 

Qu'el  ne  voloit  a  lui  aler, 

Por  promece,  ou  por  doner, 


THE  BISHOP  AND  THE  PRIEST.  71 

Tant  estoit  fiere  et  orgoillose, 
Envers  1'evesque  desdaignose. 
Tant  c'une  nuit,  si  con  moi  sanble, 
Durent  endui  gesir  ensanble ; 
Ensinc  1'avoient  porpose. 
Mais  trestote  la  verite 
En  sot  li  prestes  auramant, 
Qui  moult  avoit  lo  cuer  dolant 
De  ce  que  1'evesques  li  dit 
Que  fame  avec  li  ne  tenist : 
Si  Fan  remanbre  encore  bien, 
Et  dit  que  ne  1'aura  por  rien, 
C'a  la  borjoise  n'aut  parler. 
Maintenant,  sanz  plus  arester, 
S'an  va  a  li,  si  li  a  dit, 
"  Dame,  se  li  cors  Deu  m'ait, 
Grant  mestier  ai  de  vostre  aie  ; 
Gardez  que  vos  ne  me  failliez  mie, 
Que  jamais  ne  vos  ameroie." 
"  Sire,"  fait-ele,  "  se  1'  savoie 
Chose  dont  il  vos  fust  mestier, 
Je  P  feroie  moult  volantiers  ; 
Or  me  dites  vostre  plaisir." 
"  Dame,  ne  lo  vos  quier  taisir," 
Fait  li  prestes,  "  ne  vos  anuit : 
Li  evesques  qui  doit  anuit 
O  vos  gesir  en  vostre  lit, 
Et  de  vos  faire  son  delit, 
Que  1'an  lo  m'a  dit  et  conte, 
Si  me  faites  tant  de  bonte, 
Connie  m'amie  et  ma  voisine, 
Que  vos  darriere  la  cortine 
Me  laissiez  respondre  et  tapir ; 
Bien  lo  vos  cuit  encor  merir, 
Se  tant  volez  faire  por  moi." 
"  Par  foi,"  fait-ele,  "  je  Potroi  ; 
Ce  ferai-je  moult  lieemant ; 
Alez  donques  delivremant, 
Si  vos  muciez,  et  reponez, 
Volantiers  qant  vos  lo  volez." 
Lors  se  muce  et  atapine, 
Et  caiche  darrier  la  cortine, 
Tant  que  li  jorz  s'an  fu  alez. 
Adonc  ne  s'est  pas  obliez 


72  POEMS  ON  THE  CLASSES  OF  SOCIETY. 

Li  evesques,  qui  venir  dut : 

A  tot  .iiij.  serjanz  s'esmut, 

A  la  borjoise  vint  tot  droit, 

Qui  priveemant  1'atandoit, 

Ni  ot  que  li  et  sa  bajasse. 

Ne  sai  que  plus  vos  en  contasse, 

Mais  que  li  liz  fu  atornez 

Qui  bien  estoit  encortinez, 

Dui  cerge  moult  cler  i  ardoient, 

Qui  moult  grant  clerte  gitoient. 

La  dame  se  coucha  avant, 

Et  li  evesques  auraumant 

Si  recoucha  sanz  plus  atandre, 

Et  li  viz  li  comance  a  tandre 

Qant  il  santi  la  dame  nue, 

Si  volt  monter,  sanz  atandre  ; 

Mais  cele  li  contredit  bien, 

Et  dit  que  il  n'an  fera  rien. 

"  Sire/'  fait-ele,  "  ne  vos  hastez. 

Se  vos  volez  voz  volantez 

Faire  de  moi,  ne  de  mon  con, 

Y  covient  que  benei9on 

Li  doigniez,  et  si  lo  seigniez 

Encoiz  que  vos  i  adessez, 

Qu'il  ne  fu  onques  ordonez  : 

La  destre  main  en  haut  levez, 

Se  1'beneissiez  maintenant 

Tot  autresi  hastivement 

Conme  vos  feriez  demain 

La  teste  au  fil  a  un  vilain, 

Se  vos  li  fasiez  corone." 

L'  evesques  ot  qu'el  li  sarmone, 

Que  ja  a  li  n'aura  tochie, 

Tant  qu'en9ois  ait  son  con  seignie. 

Si  dist,  "  Dame,  foi  que  vos  doi, 

Qan  que  vos  dites,  je  1'otroi, 

Vos  lo  volez,  et  jo  voil.  bien, 

Por  ce  n'i  perdrai-je  ja  rien." 

Li  evesques  lo  con  seigna, 

Et  puis  a  dit  per  omnia: 

Qan  qu'il  fait  la  benei^on, 

Dit  secula  seculorum  ; 

Et  li  prestes,  qui  1'antandi, 

Maintenant  amen  respondi. 


THE    BISHOP  AND  THE  PRIEST.  73 

Et  li  evesques,  qant  il  Tot, 
Sachiez  que  grant  peor  en  ot, 
Qant  a  lo  prevoire  escote  ; 
Puis  a  un  po  en  haut  parle  : 
"  Qui  es-tu,  qui  respondu  as  ?" 
"  Sire/'  fait-il,  "  je  sui  li  lax, 
Cui  tu  viax  sa  fame  tolir, 
Si  com  il  te  vient  a  plaisir  ; 
Et  si  m'as  lo  vin  deffendu, 
Jamais  par  moi  n'en  ert  beu  ; 
Des  hui  matin  oi  retraire, 
Que  tu  voloies  ordres  faire ; 
Si  i  voloie  estre,  biau  sire." 
Li  evesques  conmance  a  rire, 
Et  dit,  "  Or  m'as-tu  espie, 
Et  bien  sorpris  et  engignie  ; 
Or  te  doi-je  congie  de  boivre, 
Et  de  mangier  poucins  au  povre, 
Et  oes,  qant  tu  en  vaudrax, 
Et  avoc  toi  ta  fame  auras  ; 
Si  garde  que  mais  ne  te  voie." 
Lors  s'an  tome  cil  a  grant  joie. 


SECTION  IV.-MISCELLANEOTJS  PIECES. 

Many  of  the  games  still  popular  among  children  formed,  in  the 

middle  ages,  the  chief  amusement  within  doors  of  people  of  high 

rank  ;  so  much  has  the  progress  of  refinement  driven  out  of  fashion 

what  we  look  upon  as  the  trivialities  of  life.     What  we  now  call  the 

^*-  game  of  forfeits,  and  especially  games  of  fortune   (fortune  cards  are 

still  in  use),    were  among  the    most  popular.     In  the  romance  of 

^-  Blonde  of  Oxford,  which  is  rich  in  illustrations  of  feudal  manners, 

we  see  the  household  of  the  English  haron  leaving  the  dinner  table 

to  ramble  in  the  fields  and  woods  around  the  castle,  or  to  play  in  the 

chambers  of  the  ladies  (lin.  387) — 

Apres  manger  lavent  leurs  mains, 

Puis  s'en  vont  juer,  qui  ains  ains, 

Ou  en  fores  ou  en  rivieres, 

Ou  en  deduis  d'autres  manieres. 

Jehans  au  quel  que  il  veut  va, 

Et  quant  il  revent  souvant  va 

Jouer  es  chambres  la  contesse, 

O  les  dames,  qui  en  destrece 

Le  tienent  d'aprendre  Fran9ois. 

These  amusements  are  often  characterised  by  the  want  of  restraint 
in  words  and  actions  which  accompanied  the  great  licentiousness  of 
medieval  manners.  A  description  of  one  of  these  games  is  given  in 
an  extract  from  the  poems  of  Baudoin  and  Jehan  de  Conde  (poets  of 
the  thirteenth  century),  printed  by  Barbazan  (torn,  i,  p.  300)  under 
the  title  of  Le  sentier  batu.  At  the  time  of  a  tournament  the  knights 
and  ladies  amused  themselves  with  different  games,  and  among  the 
rest  they  played  at  one  called  le  roi  qui  ne  ment,  in  which  they 
elected  a  queen  and  bound  themselves  each  in  turn  to  give  a  true 
answer  to  the  question  put  to  them  by  the  lady  chosen  to  fill  that 
playful  dignity.  We  are  told  that  the  knights — 

Une  foi  ierent  en  dosnoi 

Entre  dames  et  damoiselles ; 

De  cointes  i  ot  et  de  belles. 

De  plusieurs  deduits  s'entremistrent, 

Et  tant  c'une  royne  fistrent 

Pour  jouer  au  roy  qui  ne  ment. 

Ele  s'en  savoit  finement 

Entremettre  de  commander, 

Et  de  demandes  demander. 


MEDIEVAL  GAMES.  75 

The  object  of  the  questions  was  to  provoke  answers  which  should 
excite  merriment.  Among  the  knights  was  one  who  had  demanded 
the  lady  in  marriage,  but  had  been  refused  somewhat  contemptu 
ously  : — 

—  bien  tailliez  ne  sembloit  mie 

Pour  faire  ce  que  plest  amie, 

Quant  on  le  tient  en  ses  bras  nue ; 

Car  n'ot  pas  la  barbe  cremue : 

Poi  de  barbe  ot,  s'en  est  eschiez, 

Et  tant  qu'as  fames  en  maint  Hex. 

"  Sire,"  ce  li  dist  la  royne, 

u  Dites  moi  tant  de  vos  covine, 

S'onques  eustes  nul  enfant." 

"  Dame,"  dist-il,  "  point  ne  m'en  vant, 

Car  onques  n'en  oi  nul,  ge  croi." 

"  Sire,  point  ne  vous  en  mescroi, 

Et  si  croi  que  ne  sui  pas  seule ; 

Car  il  pert  assez  a  1'esteule 

Que  bons  n'est  mie  li  espis." 

The  knight  was  of  course  laughed  at  by  the  whole  company  ;  but  he 
determined  to  take  his  revenge.  After  the  queen  had  put  a  question 
to  each  of  the  company,  they  had  each  in  their  order  to  put  a  question 
in  return.  It  appears  that  the  knight  was  acquainted  with  some 
peccadilloes  on  the  part  of  the  lady,  and  when  it  was  his  turn  to 
question,  he  said, — 

"Dame,  respondezmoi  sans  guile, 

A  point  de  poil  a  vo  poinille  ?" 

"  Par  foi,"  ce  dist  la  damoiselle, 

"  Vezci  une  demande  belle, 

Et  qui  est  bien  assise  a  point : 

Sachiez  qu'il  n'en  y  a  point." 

Cil  li  dist  de  vouloir  entier, 

"  Bien  vous  en  croi,  quar  a  sender 

Qui  est  batus,  ne  croist  point  d'erbe." 

Cil  qui  oirent  cest  proverbe, 

Commencierent  si  grant  risee, 

Pour  la  demande  desguisee, 

Que  cele  en  fu  forment  honteuse, 

Qui  devant  estoit  convoiteuse 

De  chose  demander  et  dire 

De  quoi  les  autres  feist  rire. 

This  story  is  told  by  a  serious  writer,  as  a  thing  quite  consistent  with 
the  manners  of  his  times ;  he  gives  it  merely  as  an  example  to  show 


76  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

that  people  who  turn  others  into  ridicule  before  their  faces  are  often 
made  ashamed  of  themselves. 

The  following  very  curious  piece,  taken  from  an  English  MS.  of 
the  reign  of  Edward  I,  (in  the  Bodleian  library),  relates  to  another 
popular  game  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Each  of  the  metrical  quar- 
tains  of  which  it  consists  contains  a  personal  character,  good  or  bad, 
and  the  game  appears  to  have  been  played  by  each  lady  or  gentleman 
drawing  for  a  character,  and  of  course  where  a  very  bad  one  was 
drawn  the  drawer  became  an  object  of  mirth  and  satire.  It  is  evi 
dently  intended  for  a  mixed  company  of  both  sexes,  and  of  feudal 
rank,  or  it  would  not  have  been  written  in  French.  The  singular 
coarseness  and  indelicacy  of  some  of  the  quartains  intended  for  the 
ladies  are  in  close  accordance  with  the  story  given  above. 

M.  Jubinal,  in  a  very  interesting  collection  entitled  Jongleurs  et 
Trouveres,  ou  choix  de  Saluts,  Epitres,  Reveries,  et  autres  pieces, 
Ugeres,,  des  xme  et  xive  siecles  (8vo.  Paris,  1835,  p.  151),  has  printed 
from  a  MS.  at  Paris  a  piece  similar  to  the  present,  which  is  entitled 
in  the  MS.  Les  geus  d'Aventures.  Two  sets  of  rhymes  in  English 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  intended  for  a  similar  game,  are  printed  in 
the  Reliquiae  Antiquae,  vol.  i,  p.  249,  and  vol.  ii,  p.  195  :  in  one  of 
these  instances  the  distiches  are  in  the  original  written  on  the 
wooden  cards  which  then  served  for  the  game.  In  MS.  Harl.  No. 
3814,  part  2,  there  is  a  set  of  tables  in  Latin  leonine  verses  for 
drawing  fortunes,  but  the  MS.  probably  belonged  to  some  professed 
fortune-teller,  who  used  them  for  profit  and  not  for  play. 

A  GAME  OF  CHANCE. 

[From   MS.   Digby,  No.   86,  fol.   162,   r°.] 
Ragemon  le  bon. 

Deu  vous  dorra  grant  honour, 
E  grant  joie  et  grant  vigour, 
Ja  de  ^eo  ne  fauderez 
Taunt  cum  vous  viverez. 

Vous  fausez  trop  sovent  vos  dis, 
Touz  jours  irrez  de  mal  en  pis  : 
Ore  vous  repentez  come  sage, 
Ou  vous  averez  la  male  rage. 

Qui  ben  vous  fest  toust  se  repent, 
Eschars  estes  veraiment ; 
Si  de  ceo  ne  pernez  garde, 
A  feme  averez  une  galliarde. 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  •        77 

Graunt  joie  averez  de  vostre  amie  : 
Deu  vous  tenge  longe  vie  ! 
Touz  jours  serez  mout  vaillaunt, 
E  voustre  amie  autretaunt. 

Vous  serez  bon  mesager, 
Kar  vistes  estes  et  leger  : 
A  une  mensounge  tost  trouver 
Ne  covent  autre  demaunder. 

De  vostre  amie  goie  averez, 
Quant  entre  vos  braz  la  tendrez  : 
Mes  poi  la  goie  vous  durra, 
Kar  ele  vous  enginera. 

Vous  serrez  riches  me  pose, 
Mes  tost  vous  faudra  la  chose  ; 
Kar  hasart  et  dez  quarre 
Vous  mettrount  toust  a  poverte. 

Chens  et  oiseaus  et  deduit 
Asez  averez  jour  et  nuit ; 
Mes  de  une  chose  vous  gardez, 
Que  trop  avers  ne  seiez. 

Iveresse  et  glotonnie, 

E  coveitise,  et  lecherie, 

Ces  quatre  serount  assis 

Mout  ferm  en  vostre  quer  toudis. 

Quant  averez  tout  goline, 
E  le  pais  environne, 
Au  derein  si  vous  repentirez, 
E  en  le  servise  Deu  morrez. 

Bele  femme  et  pute  averez, 
La  si  ben  ne  vous  garderez ; 
Enfaunz  plusours  averez, 
Mes  ja  un  soul  ne  engendrez. 

La  lettre  dist,  n'est  mie  fable, 
Que  vous  estes  mout  veritable  ; 
Volounters  aumones  donez 
As  povres  et  as  meseisez. 

La  damaisele  ki  vous  prendra 
Mout  sovent  vous  gabera, 
Kar  ele  se  fra  verraiment 
Sovent  foutre  de  la  gent. 


78  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Vouz  servirez  le  fiz  Marie 
Touz  les  jours  de  vostre  vie  ; 
Asez  averez  ben  et  honour, 
Taunt  cum  servirez  toun  seingnur. 

Prodoume  ne  serrez  jammes. 
Ne  preuz,  ne  gages,  ne  curteis  ; 
Mes  faus  et  deloiaus  serrez 
Taunt  cum  vous  viverez. 

Vous  resemblez  ben  un  homme 
Qui  volounters  le  soen  donne 
Corteisement  a  la  gent, 
Si  puissez  feire  longement! 

Deu !  cum  se  pura  avaunter, 
Et  de  grant  joie  chaunter, 
Qui  vous  purreit  enginer, 
Taunt  estes  faus  et  losenger. 

Leoun  de  quer,  fraunc  de  corage, 
De  touz  vos  veisins  le  plus  sage, 
Deu  vous  doint  la  male  hounte, 
Si  nule  fern  me  vous  sormounte ! 

Deu !  cum  pura  estre  goious 
Qui  vous  prendra  d'espous ; 
Kar  faus  estes  et  losengers, 
E  si  estes  fort  mensoungers. 

Orgoillous  estes  et  fers, 
Asez  averez  des  deners, 
Mes  jammes  ben  ne  frez, 
Si  vous  ben  ne  purpensez. 

Vous  estes  de  trop  gros  grein, 
E  si  pernez  mout  en  vein  ; 
Vous  quidez  valer  tout  le  mount, 
E  vous  ne  valez  un  estrount. 

Graunt  joie  averez  de  vostre  vie, 
Danme-Deu  le  vous  otrie  ! 
E  vous  doint  en  tous  declin 
Repentaunce  bone  et  fin. 

Putriz  estes  et  fort  holers, 
E  fel  et  faus  et  pautoners, 
E  ben  sachez,  beaus  amis, 
Que  par  femme  serez  traiz. 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  79 

Asez  averez  dras  et  viaunde, 
E  quant  ke  voustre  quer  demaunde ; 
Amie  averez  ho  grant  noblee, 
Bele,  et  bone,  et  ascemee. 

Vous  resemblez  mout  vaillaunt 
De  cors,  de  membres,  et  puissaunt  ; 
Ne  poez  ben  fere  a  nul  fer, 
Car  vous  estez  feint  de  quer. 

Corteisie,  960  di-jeo  ben, 
Vous  faudra  sour  toute  ren  ; 
Noun  ras  pur  faute  de  nature, 
Mes  pur  defaute  de  noreture. 

O  toun  vous  conois  asez, 
Taunt  estes  fel  et  pautoners, 
E  plein  de  ire  et  coveitous, 
Si  vous  en  blarnent  li  plusours. 

Joie  n'averez  de  vostre  vie ; 
Kar  gelous  estes  de  ta  arnie  : 
Mes  ne  lerad  pur  ta  mestrie, 
Que  au  derein  ne  seit  honie. 

Jeo  vous  pri  au  definer 
Lessez  vostre  folie  ester  ; 
Kar  fel  estes  et  mal  parlaunt, 
Que  au  vif  diable  vous  comaunt. 

Corteisie  et  enseingnement 
Apernez  et  afeitement ; 
Kar  nature  est  en  vous  mise, 
De  doun  celui  ki  tout  justise. 

Qui  vous  prendra  a  espous, 
Trop  ert  lede  et  trop  hidous, 
Ganglant  et  fel  et  plain  de  ire, 
E  vous  la  baterez  cume  sire. 

Meuz  amerez  od  une  pucele, 
En  verger  ou  en  praele, 
Pur  toucher  sur  la  mamele, 
Que  le  geu  de  la  frestele. 

Quant  le  pais  et  la  cuntree 
Querez  toute  u  serchee, 
La  plus  pire  prendrez 
De  tous  ceus  ki  d'amie  avez. 


80  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Dedein  avez  de  ta  parole, 
Kar  veriz  estes  de  male  escole, 
Que  ne  volez  oves  la  gent  parler, 
E  deduire  et  auneiser. 

Jolifs  estes  et  amerous, 
Mout  fotez  en  nuiz,  en  jours  ; 
Ja  si  lede  ne  troverez, 
Que  volounters  ne  la  fouterez, 

Mout  estes  de  bone  entente, 
Asez  averez  deners  et  rente  ; 
Rouncins,  palefrais  i  averez, 
Des  armes  alosez  serrez. 

Orgoilous  estes  et  fers, 
Wers  larcine  mout  legers, 
Fel  et  faus  et  medisaunt, 
Si  serrez  touz  jours  avaunt. 

Jeo  vous  pri  par  charite, 
Lessez  voustre  rigole, 
Dount  puras  a  bon  chef  trere, 
Si  ne  volez  le  mal  fere. 

Quant  amie  ou  femme  averas, 
En  grant  daunger  viveras ; 
Si  ose  ne  serrez  rie  si  fol, 
De  countredire  de  une  parol. 

Deu  vous  dura,  si  lui  plest, 
Ceo  ki  m ester  vous  est ; 
Si  vou[s]  lui  servez  a  gre, 
Tai  gardera  del  maufe. 

Mout  as  despendu  par  folie 
Ta  doctrine,  et  par  mestr[i]e, 
Que  ne  volez  a  nul  ben  trere, 
Ne  apres  nus  sage  fere. 

Tu  irras  en  autre  tere 
Long  tens  pur  ta  cheaunce  quere; 
Mes  au  derein  retur  verez, 
Qu'od  grant  joie  et  grant  noblez. 

Bloundette,  doucette  estes,  et  bele, 
Durette  avez  la  mamele  ; 
Ben  se  purrad  celui  vaunter, 
Qui  un  feze  vous  poet  beiser. 


A  GAME  OF  CHANCE.  81 

Savez  ke  ert  vostre  mester 
De  medire  et  de  tencer, 
E  de  fere  bons  amis 
Ben  toust  morteus  enemis. 

Corteise  estes  et  ben  apris, 
Sages  en  fez  et  en  dis, 
Le  los  averez  et  le  pris 
De  toutes  celes  de  toun  pais. 

Un  prodoume  averez  a  baroun  ; 
Mes  vous  li  frez  grant  treisun: 
Vous  durrez  quaunt  ke  il  avera, 
E  un  autre  te  fotira. 

Tout  le  mounde  vous  amera, 
Taunt  cum  vie  vous  durra ; 
De  toute  gent  serrez  preise 
E  enhause  et  honoure. 

Damaisele,  n'est  pas  gas, 
Qui  te  n'eit  ne  te  conut  pas  ; 
Vous  resemblez  ben  minote, 
Si  estes  forte  baudestrote. 

En  touz  lius  serrez  vous  amee, 
E  enhauce,  et  honouree, 
Pur  vostre  grant  curteisie, 
Deu  vous  tenge  longe  vie  ! 

Bele  sere,  ne  vous  coroucez, 

Si  de  vous  dis  mes  volountez : 

Sovent  avez  este  fotue 

Cul  descovert  et  jaunbe  nue. 

The  following  piece  in  English,  from  a  MS.  in  the  Bodleian 
Library,  of  the  fifteenth  century,  is  precisely  of  the  same  character 
as  the  preceding.  It  would  appear  from  the  title  that  the  name 
of  the  game  was  Ragman :  the  title  of  the  French  copy  is  Ragman  • 
the  good.  It  is  well  known  that  the  charter  by  which  the  Scots 
acknowledged  their  dependence  on  the  English  crown  under  Edward 
I,  was  popularly  called  a  ragman  roll ;  and  the  name  was  afterwards 
applied  to  other  rolls.  The  origin  of  the  name  has  been  a  subject  of 
much  doubt.  In  the  chronicle  of  Lanercost  we  are  told  that  the 
Scottish  deed  just  mentioned  was  called  ragman  on  account  of  the 
number  of  seals  of  the  Scottish  nobility  which  hung  from  it.*  It 

*  Unum  instrumentum  sive  cartam  subjectionis  et  homagii  faciendi 
regibus  Angliae  ....  a  Scottis  propter  multa  sigilla  dependentia  ragman 
vocabatur.  Chronicon  de  Lanercost,  ed  Stevenson,  p.  261. 

M 


82  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

appears  by  the  beginning  of  tbe  following  poem  that,  in  the  game  of 
Ragman,  the  person  seeking  his  character  drew  a  string,  which 
indicated  the  stanza  that  was  to  be  applied  to  him.  If  we  suppose 
(which  appears  to  me  very  probable)  that  the  stanzas  were  written 
one  after  another  on  a  roll  of  parchment,  that  to  each  stanza  a  string 
was  attached  at  the  side,  with  a  seal  or  piece  of  metal  or  wood  at  the 
end,  and  that,  when  used,  the  parchment  was  rolled  up,  with  all  the 
strings  and  their  seals  hanging  together  so  that  the  drawer  had  no 
reason  for  choosing  one  more  than  another,  but  drew  one  of  the 
strings  by  mere  chance,  on  which  the  roll  was  opened  to  see  on 
what  stanza  he  had  fallen  :  if  such  were  the  form  of  the  game,  we 
can  very  easily  imagine  why  the  name  was  popularly  applied  to  a 
charter  with  an  unusual  number  of  seals  attached  to  it,  which  when 
rolled  up  would  present  exactly  the  same  appearance. 

In  the  sequel  the  word  ragman  appears  to  have  been  used  very 
generally  for  any  comprehensive  list  of  articles  of  all  sorts  arranged 
without  any  order,  not  "  drawn  up  secundum  regimen,"  as  the  com 
piler  of  the  index  to  the  Towneley  Mysteries  supposes.     In  the  play 
of  Juditium,  in  this  work,  Tutivillus,  one  of  the  devils  who  had  been 
busily  employed  in  catching  people  sinning,  says,  (p.  31]), — 
Here  a  rolle  of  ragman  of  the  rownde  tabille, 
Of  breffes  in  my  bag,  man,  of  synnes  dampnabille. 
The  words  "  of  the  rownde  tabille  "  have  perhaps  an  allusion  to  some 
characteristic  of  the  game.     The  word  occurs  twice  in  Piers  Plough 
man.      The  first  instance  is  a  remarkable  illustration  of  what  has 
been  said  above  :  it  relates  to  the  pardoner  (lin.  135), 

Ther  preched  a  pardoner, 

As  he  a  preest  were ; 

Broughte  forth  a  lulle 

With  many  bisshopes  seles, 

And  seide  that  hymself  myghte 

Assoilen  hem  alle. 

*       *       *       * 

He  bouched  hem  with  his  brevet, 

And  blered  hire  eighen, 

And  raughte  with  his  rageman 

Rynges  and  broches. 

Here  the  ragman  is  the  bull  with  many  seals.  In  the  other  passage 
of  this  poem  it  is  applied  to  the  devil,  (lin.  10,978), — 

To  go  robbe  that  rageman, 

And  reve  the  fruyt  fro  hym. 

This  is  perhaps  another  word,  compounded  of  rage  and  mad,  and 
signifying  a  fury  or  wanton. 


RAGMAN  ROLL.  83 

RAGMAN  ROLL. 

[From  MS  Fairfax,  No.  16.] 
Here  begynnyth  Ragmane  roelle. 

My  ladyes  and  my  maistresses  echone, 
Lyke  hit  unto  your  humbyble  wommanhede, 
Resave  in  gre  of  my  sympill  persone 
This  rolle,  which  withouten  any  drede 
Kynge  Ragman  me  bad  me  sowe  in  brede, 
And  cristyned  yt  the  merour  of  your  chaunce  ; 
Drawith  a  strynge,  and  that  shal  streight  yow  leyde 
Unto  the  verry  path  of  your  governaunce. 

Thankyth  me  not,  ne  konneth  me  no  grame, 
Whedir  your  chaunce  oon  or  othir  be ; 
As  he  me  bad  to  write  I  wrot  the  same, 
And  eke  ye  wot  wel  at  your  choys  be  ye  : 
Yf  that  ye  drawe  wel,  yt  plesith  me, 
And  the  contrary e  doth  me  dysplesaunce. 
Fortunes  cours  certeyn  ye  may  not  flee, 
Pray  hir  of  helpe,  ye  hange  in  her  balaunce. 

Whom  that  her  lykyth  makyth  she  ascende  ; 
And  him  as  swithe  overthroyth  also ; 
Her  nature  ys  to  apparyn  and  amende, 
She  changyth  ever,  and  fletyth  to  and  fro, 
For  in  oo  poynt  abydyth  she  never  mo. 
Yf  ye  welle  ones  happyd,  I  yow  reyde, 
Chesith  lest  eft  falle  hit  no  more  so  ; 
For  ay  lest  ye  mysdrawn  I  me  drede. 

0  worlde,  thogh  thou  be  large  in  circuyt, 

Within  thy  bowndes  nys  ther  creature 

So  fortunat,  ne  stondyth  in  such  a  plyt, 

As  this  lady  whom  that  dame  Nature 

Hath  fourymyde  so  that  ther  ys  no  mesure 

Be  whiche  men  may  her  shappe  and  beaute  mete. 

He  that  is  lorde  of  vertu  hath  his  cure 

Eke  one  her  kyd,  and  kan  no  fyrthir  trete. 

A  smal  conceyt  may  ryght  enogh  suffyse, 
Of  your  beaute  discripcion  for  to  make  ; 
For  at  one  word,  ther  kan  no  wyght  devyse 
Oone  that  therof  hath  lasse,  I  undertake  ; 


84  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Yf  that  the  feende  hymself  wolde  have  a  make, 
Ys  none  to  hym  so  lyke  as  ye  allone. 
He  that  yow  seith,  and  sykyth  for  your  sake, 
I  pray  to  God  that  evere  he  syke  and  grone. 

Your  colour  fresshe,  your  percyng  eyen  gray, 
Your  shap  and  your  womanly  governaunce, 
Constraynyn  men  of  grace  yow  to  pray, 
That  day  fro  day  sojornyn  in  penaunce 
Tille  that  yow  lyst  hem  sendyn  alegaunce  ; 
But  al  for  noght,  Danger,  that  deynous  wreche,* 
So  chastyth  pete  frome  your  remembraunce, 
That  to  your  grace  may  ther  no  wyght  strecche. 

To  chirche  as  swyftly  as  a  snayl  ye  hey, 
But  to  the  temple  of  Bachus,  the  taverne, 
To  moystyn  ther  your  appetitys  drey, 
Ful  spedful  ye  rennyn  and  ful  yerne ; 
And  whoso  lyst  may  thressyn  in  your  berne, 
So  ys  your  hert  fre  and  lyberalle. 
O  Danger,  of  theys  wemen  maystow  lerne, 
Frendly  to  ben  and  compaygnable  at  al. 

Syn  ye  were  first  unto  your  make  y-knyt, 
Wei  han  ye  kept  your  chambre  of  prevete  ; 
For  hardely  may  no  mane  sey  as  yet, 
That  with  your  bode  foleyed  han  ye. 
And  now  cometh  age,  foo  to  your  beaute, 
And  stelyngly  it  wastyth  stownde-mele ; 
But  pacienly  your  benygnyte 
Taketh  alle  in  gre,  and  gruccheth  never  a  dele. 

Whoso  that  yow  beholdyth  well,  and  seyth 
Your  roncled  face  and  your  rawe  eyen  tweyne, 
Your  shrunkyn  lyppis  and  your  gowuldyn  tethe, 
How  may  he  lyve  fro  dystresse  and  payne, 
But  yf  that  he  unto  your  grace  atteyne, 
And  at  a  revell  for  to  se  yow  hoppe  ] 
Ys  joy  y-now  so  ye  your  lyggys  streyne, 
Ye  lade  longe  sydyde  as  a  loppe. 

The  digne  and  puyr  estat  of  vrgynite 

The  feende  ne  may  oute  of  your  hart  chace  ; 

And  yet  his  snares  besely  beereth  hee 


*     An  allusion  to  the  allegorical  personification  of  Danger  in  the 
Roman  de  la  Rose. 


RAGMAN  ROLL.  85 

From  day  to  day,  but  noght  he  may  purchace, 
So  hath  yow  God  endowyd  of  his  grace, 
And  sent  yow  constant  spirit  of  vygour. 
0  feende,  thy  snares  ley  in  othir  place, 
For  al  in  ydel  here  is  thy  labour. 

Lat  se  who  can  this  woman  cowneterfete, 

Of  yche  estat  she  hayth  compassyon  ; 

The  ryche  hir  wynneth  with  his  gyftys  grete  ; 

The  poore,  for  his  faire  condycion ; 

The  bisshop,  for  his  absolucyon ; 

The  priste,  the  clerk,  for  her  syngyng  swete  ; 

Knyghtis  and  squyers,  for  armys  and  renoun ; 

Yomen  and  grome,  for  thay  styfly  shey t. 

Ryght  as  the  sonne  is  the  worldys  eye, 
That  to  the  daylyght  yevythe  a  shynynge, 
And  all  fruyt  causyth  to  wexe  and  multiplie 
Thorgh  his  atempre  kyndely  noryshynge, 
Wythoutyn  whom  none  erthly  fruyt  may  spryng, 
Ryght  so  your  bewte  sprad  hath  hys  bryghtnes 
In  the  hert  of  every  jentylman  lyvyng, 
And  fedyth  wyth  joye  and  wyth  gladnes. 

Gret  wondir  ys  wher  that  ye  han  the  blast 
That  ye  brethyng  out,  syth  ye  so  meche  spende  ; 
For  also  soune  as  oo  chydyng  ys  paste, 
Anothir  cometh,  your  talkyng  hath  none  ende. 
Upone  your  tonge  a  lokk  I  pray  God  sende  ! 
For  yf  hit  go  thus  at  his  large, 
Ful  many  a  man  hyt  shal  hurte  and  offende, 
So  sore  that  thay  shul  not  bere  the  charge. 

Seyth  God  first  bonde  wyth  lok  of  mareage 
Man  and  woman,  to  lede  ther  lyf  in  fere, 
Was  never  woman  of  no  maner  age 
So  gud  and  trew  and  lovyng  to  her  fere, 
As  ye,  ne  hath  his  honour  half  so  dere; 
And  for  to  speke  of  your  pacience 
In  special,  may  none  with  yow  apere, 
Suche  ys  your  vertu  and  yowr  excellence. 

0  constaunt  womane,  stabill  as  the  mone, 
Your  trouth  kept  ye  never  in  no  manere, 
But  wheras  Wenus  actys  ben  to  done, 
At  day,  at  place,  at  hour  sette  for  to  appere 
With  suche  one  as  yow  list  make  chere  ; 


86  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Ther  byn  ye  prest  to  perfowrym  your  graunt, 
But  yf  another  heyir  yow  so  deyre 
That  ye  mot  nedis  brekyn  covenaunt. 

Wei  shewen  ye  that  of  a  jentyl  lyne 
Ye  ben  dyscendyd,  for  your  dedys  preyf ; 
Ther  may  no  wyght  your  hert  make  enclyne 
To  thing,  that  may  other  harme  or  greyf, 
Ne  wykkyd  report  of  no  body  leve  ; 
And  fro  your  tunge  passe  no  thinge  may, 
But  suche  fruyt  as  may  vertu  stere  and  meve, 
That  ys  your  besynes  and  hath  ben  ay. 

Ful  feire  brydelyn  ye  your  cowntenaunce, 
And  propirly  unto  the  brest  adowne, 
And  your  foot  ye  tappyn  and  ye  daunce, 
Thogh  hit  the  fry  sky  st  horse  were  in  a  towne  ; 
Joly  and  lyght  is  your  complexicion, 
That  steryn  ay  and  kunne  nat  stonde  still ; 
And  eke  your  tonge  hath  not  forgete  his  sowne, 
Quyk,  sharp,  and  swyft  is  hyt,  and  lowyd  and  shill. 

—  Mercuric,  that  God  clepyd  is  of  langage, 
To  yow  hath  yevyn  so  gret  eloquence, 
That  every  wyght  hath  desir  and  corage 
For  to  aproche  and  neyghen  your  presence  ; 
And  therto  han  ye  suche  benevolence 
With  every  jantylman  to  speke  and  deylle 
In  honeste,  and  yiffe  hem  audience, 
That  seeke  folke  restoryn  ye  to  helle. 

Wei  wot  your  husbond  that  ye  ben  mercialle, 
Your  tonge  and  eke  your  handys  yt  wittenesse ; 
For  ye  so  bowndyn  han  mayd  hym  and  so  thrall, 
That  not  oo  word  unneth  dar  he  expresse, 
No  loke  nethir,  so  your  crabbydnes 
Hath  in  away  t  his  wordy s  and  his  cheir  ; 
Weyr  he  unknytte,  al  this  worldes  rychesse 
Ne  myght  noght  yow  two  knyttyn  in  feir. 

Now,  ladyes,  that  stondyne  now  in  lyberte, 

Of  your  gude  and  bode  han  maistre, 

Ful  warre  and  wis  and  ryght  dyscreyt  ben  ye, 

For  may  no  mannys  sleight  me  flatere, 

Thogh  they  her  malys  inwarde  kevir  and  wrye, 

And  outfouryth  the  fayryst  that  they  kane, 

To  mareage  make  yow  for  to  heye, 

So  wel  know  ye  the  gret  untroueth  of  mane. 


RAGMAN  ROLL.  87 

0  fayr  lady,  hewyd  as  ys  the  geet, 
How  ye  al  fairen  with  your  lokes  glade, 
Natures  lusteys  in  yow  weyren  so  gret, 
That  she  unnethes  roghte  how  she  yow  made  ; 
Not  nedyth  yt  yow  to  kepe  yow  in  the  shayde, 
For  your  beaute  noght  hurte  may  the  sonne ; 
In  loves  art  men  must  deype  wade, 
Or  that  ye  be  conqueryd  and  e-wonne. 

Constant  in  vertu,  flemer  of  malyce, 
Trew  of  your  worde,  of  wordy s  mesurable, 
Benigne  and  gracius,  al  voyd  of  vyce, 
Humbil  of  speryt,  discreyt  and  honourable, 
Shaply  and  fayre,  jocunde  and  ameabille, 
Frendly  and  al  passyng  of  franchyse, 
Relever  to  the  pore  and  socourabill 
Ben  ye,  and  werry  foo  to  coveytise. 

Althogh  your  chekys  leyn  ben  and  thynne, 
Upon  your  teyth  ne  ys  it  not  alonge, 
For  also  faste  ye  may  powron  ynne, 
Al  be  the  morsel  never  so  greyt  and  longe, 
Yit  in  yt  goth,  and  drynkyn  so  amonge, 
Tyl  your  eyen  negh  han  her  strengthe  lost ; 
And  aftir  that  ye  coghyn  up  a  songe, 
So  mery  that  it  ys  not  worth  the  coste. 

Your  ryche  aray,  ne  your  excelent  birth, 
Not  makyn  yow  the  prowdir  for  to  be ; 
The  porest  wyght  that  ys  in  honest  myrth, 
With  for  to  dele  most  ys  your  deynte ; 
Your  hert  ys  roted  in  humvlyte, 
And  aquented  nothing  wyth  his  contrary e. 
And  to  the  pore  ye  yevyne  gret  plente 
Of  your  good,  where  itt  ys  necessarye. 

Your  gyse  ys  for  to  holde  men  in  hande, 
And  wyth  your  eye  feyed  her  blyndnesse, 
And  send  hem  tokynys,  wherby  undirstonde 
Thay  may  and  deme,  as  be  lyklynes, 
That  in  the  favour  of  your  gentilles 
Her  pore  estat  weyr  soumdell  recomended ; 
But  covertly  ye  of  your  dowbilnes 
Bejapen  hem,  thus  al  day  ben  men  blyndyd. 

Where  have  ye  ben  thus  longe  y-hyd  in  mewe, 
So  womanly  that  daunce  kan  and  synge  1 


88  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

What  woman  ys  of  love  or  was  so  trewe, 
Or  therynne  hath  or  hadde  halfe  your  felynge  ? 
None  syth  the  world  frist  hadde  begynnynge; 
And  sythen  ye  be  so  jocunde  and  so  good, 
And  in  the  rolle  last  as  in  wrytynge, 
I  rede  that  this  game  ende  in  your  hood. 

Explicit  Ragman  roelle. 

The  pieces  which  follow  are  specimens  of  the  lyric  poetry  of  our 
forefathers  in  the  thirteenth  century,  written  in  the  three  languages 
then  in  use,  Anglo-Norman,  English,  and  Latin.  The  first  (as 
far  as  I  can  discover)  adds  a  name  to  the  list  of  our  Anglo-Norman 
song  writers,  and  is  not  an  unfavourable  specimen  of  their  talents 
for  this  class  of  compositions.  It  was  kindly  pointed  out  to  me  by 
the  Rev.  Joseph  Hunter,  who  found  it  in  a  bundle  of  miscellaneous 
Exchequer  documents  in  her  Majesty's  Remembrancer's  Office.  It 
is  written  as  prose  on  a  small  square  piece  of  parchment,  in  a  hand 
apparently  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  first 
stanza  is  accompanied  with  musical  notes.  A  rude  figure  of  a 
coronet  is  drawn  after  de  in  the  name.  Hoiland  is  probably  the  dis 
trict  of  that  name  in  Lincolnshire,  of  which  we  may  suppose  the  poet 
to  have  been  a  native. 

SONG  BY  RENAUD  DE  HOILANDE. 

Renaus  de  Hollands. 

Si  tost  c'amis  entant  a  ben  amer, 

prant  garde  amours,  si  doit  merchi  avoir, 
Qui  se  garde  pora  a  celi  donner 
qui  servi  Pa  si  qu'il  i  doit  paroir. 
For  9ou  ai-jou  tel  voloir 
que  je  ne  voel  mie 
que  ma  dame  eust  m'amie 
este  lors  que  je  levi 
pour  autre  tour,  s'estre  pooit  ensi. 

Car  on  peut  ben  a  le  fois  trop  haster, 
et  se  doit  ben  cascons  amans  savoir 
C'amours  ne  veut  nus  des  siens  oublier, 
mais  selonc  chou  que  cascons  a  d'espoir, 
a  amours  d'aidier  pooir ; 
et  se  fait  ele  partie, 
quant  ele  entant  c'amis  prie, 
con  cieus  qui  ben  a  servi, 
amours  le  fait  nommer  de  dame  ami. 


SONG  BY  RENAUD   DE  HOILANDE.  89 

En  9011  me  doi  ades  reconforte, 

car  nus  ne  peut  parfaitement  voloir, 
S'il  ne  li  plaist  autant  a  endurer 

9011  dont  amours  fait  les  siens  en  doloir, 
con  de  merchi  recevoir  ; 
car  puis  c'amours  le  maistrie, 
pour  son  profit  le  castie, 
et  pur  ben  savoir  ensi 
s'amours  vanroit  pour  riens  metre  en  oubli. 

Ceste  raison  me  fait  si  lie  porter 

£ou  dont  amours  fait  les  siens  en  esmouvoir, 
Qu'il  m'est  avis  seulement  dou  pensser, 
c'a  paines  mieux  doit  fins  amis  voloir ; 
et  quant  celi  puis  veoir, 
vers  qui  mes  cuers  s'umelie, 
il  convient  ten .  .  ist  qu'il  rie, 
ains  qu'il  se  taingne  agari, 
car  je  ne  vis  fors  d'amours  et  de  li. 

Dame,  por  tous  nices  cuers  dotrinez, 
sage  de  droiste  onneste  concevoir, 
Je  ne  vus  os  de  moi  merchi  rouner, 
mais  s'ensi  est  qu'en  face  mon  devoir, 
moi  voele  ramentevoir 
amours  par  sa  cortoisie, 
tant  qu'en  vous  pites  nourie 
soit  par  amours,  que  j'empri, 
si  qu'ele  soit  avoec  amours  pourmi. 

Loes  que  ma  cancons  oie 

ert  a  ce  pui  envoie, 

sera  ma  dame  par  qui 

amours  me  tient  amoureus  et  joli. 

f 

The  next  song,  on  a  more  serious  subject,  is  taken  from  a  well- 
known  poetical  manuscript  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I  preserved  in  the 
Bodleian  Library.  It  possesses  considerable  elegance  for  an  English 
composition  of  this  period,  and  is  distinguished  by  a  high  tone  of 
moral  sentiment. 


N 


90  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

SONG  ON  THE  UNCERTAINTY  OF 
WORLDLY  AFFAIRS. 

[From  MS.  Digby,  No.  86,  fol.  163.] 
Chaunqun  del  secle. 

Uuorldes  blisse  ne  last  non  throwe, 

Hit  wint  and  went  awei  anon ; 
The  lengore  that  hie  hit  i-cnowe, 

The  lasse  ich  finde  pris  theron. 
For  al  hit  is  i-meind  with  care, 
With  serewen  and  with  evel  fare, 
And  at  the  laste  povre  and  bare, 

Hit  let  mon  wen  hit  ginneth  agon  ; 
Al  the  blisse  that  is  her  and  there 

Bi-louketh  an  ende  wop  and  mon. 

Al  shal  gon  that  her  mon  oweth, 

Al  hit  shal  wenden  into  nowt ; 
The  mon  that  her  no  good  ne  soweth, 

Wen  other  repeth  he  worth  bi-caut. 
Thenk,  mon,  the  wile  thou  havest  mi^tte, 
Thine  gultes  her  to  ^tte. 
And  do  good  bi  dai  and  bi  ni^tte, 

Ar  thou  be  of  this  lif  i-lawt. 
For  thou  nost  wene  Crist  oure  Dri^tte 

The  axseth  that  he  the  haveth  bi-tawt. 

Al  the  blisse  of  thisse  live 

Thou  shalt,  mon,  henden  in  woep ; 
Of  hous,  of  horn,  of  child,  of  wive, 

Seli  mon,  tak  therof  koep, 
For  al  thou  shalt  bi-leven  here 
Ei3tte  werof  loverd  thou  were, 
Wen  thou  list,  mon,  oppon  bere, 

And  slepest  thene  longe  dreri  slep, 
Ne  shalt  thou  haven  with  the  non  fere, 

Bot  thine  werkes  on  an  hep. 

Mon,  wi  sest  thou  love  and  herte 

On  worldes  blisse,  that  nout  ne  last  1 

Wi  tholiest  thou  thin  herte  smerte, 
For  love  that  is  ounstudefast  1 

Thou  lickest  honi  of  thorn  i-wis, 

That  sest  thi  love  on  worldes  blis ; 


UNCERTAINTY  OF  WORLDLY  AFFAIRS.  91 

For  ful  of  bitternesse  hit  is ; 

Ful  sore  thou  mi^t  ben  agast, 
For  after  that  thou  spenest  her  amis, 

Leste  thou  be  into  helle  i-cast. 

Thenk,  mon,  werof  Crist  the  wroute, 

And  do  wey  prude  of  herte  and  mod  : 
Thenk  wou  dere  he  the  abowte 

On  rode  with  his  suete  blod. 
He  3af  the  his  bodi  in  pris, 
To  bugen  the  blis,  ^if  thou  art  wis  : 
Bi-thenk  the,  mon,  and  oup  aris 

Of  slewthe,  and  bi-gin  to  werchen  god, 
The  wile  time  to  werchen  is, 

For  elles  ich  telle  the  witles  and  wod. 

Al  dai  thou  mi^t  understonden, 

And  thi  mirour  bi-foren  the  sen, 
Wat  is  to  don,  wat  is  to  shonden, 

And  wat  to  holden,  and  wat  to  flen. 
For  al  dai  thou  sist  with  thin  eien 
Hou  this  world  wend,  and  ou  men  deien ; 
For  wite  the  wel  that  thou  shalt  deien 

Ase  the  dede  and  eke  ded  ben, 
Ne  halt  ther  no  mon  for  to  halien, 

Ne  mai  no  mon  ben  deth  a^ein. 

Nis  ther  non  goed  unfor^olde, 

Ne  non  evel  nis  ther  unboust. 
Mon,  wen  thow  list  under  molde, 

Thou  shalt  haven  so  thou  havest  wrout. 
Thenk,  mon,  therfore,  I  the  rede, 
And  clanse  the  of  thine  misdede, 
That  he  the  helpe  at  thine  nede 

That  so  dere  the  haveth  about, 
And  to  hevene  blisse  the  lede, 

That  ever  last  and  ne  faileth  nout ! 

Amen.     Amen.     Amen.     Amen.     Amen. 
Y- 

The  next  song,  taken  from  the  same  manuscript  as  the  preceding, 
belongs  to  a  class  of  which  several  examples  will  be  found  in  the 
Political  Songs  (Camden  Society's  Publication),  arid  which  are  rather 
common  in  manuscripts.  They  show  the  profound  and  extensive 
feeling  of  suffering  and  distress  which  pervaded  society  under  the 
feudal  regime  and  the  Romish  church  system.  I  believe  that  some 


92  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

one  has  objected  to  the  title  of  Song  on  the  Times  given  to  these 
compositions,  as  not  being  authorised  by  manuscript  authority.  They 
are  indeed  generally  found  without  title;  but  I  have  sometimes 
found  them  with  the  Latin  title  De  s&culo  and  with  the  French  title 
Chansun  del  secle,  which  are  tolerably  well  translated  by  the  English 
title  here  given. 

SONG  ON  THE  TIMES. 

[From  MS.  Digby,  No.  86,  fol.  164,  v°,] 
Hie  demonstrat  veritatem  seculi  istius. 

Fides  hodie  sopitur, 

vigilatque  pravitas ; 
lucrum  serit  qui  mentitur, 

damnum  metit  veritas ; 
nullum  nisi  qui  blanditur 

extollit  prosperitas; 
hunc  qui  fide  stabilitur 

deprimit  adversitas : 

paucos  generositas, 

nullum  lev  at  probitas 
ad  honorem,  quam  venitur 
malam  nectit,  et  orditur 

dealbata  falsitas. 

Aulam  regis  qui  scrutatur 

poterit  advertere, 
quod  si  quis  non  adulatur 

sedebit  in  pulvere ; 
gestis  malis  applaudatur, 

detur  laus  in  scelere ; 
candor  in  nigrum  vertatur  ; 

si  quis  velit  surgere, 

sciat  morem  gerere, 

non  uti,  sed  quserere, 
et  qusesitis  ne  fruatur, 
sed  ut  dives  moriatur, 

discat  pauper  vivere. 

Curiales  non  offendit 

"f  ]  requens  adulatio ; 
[a"  dulantem  sed  ascendit 

'IJibens  exaudiscio  ; 
[injnocentem  vocem  vendit 


SONG  ON  THE  TIMES.  93 

. . .  .turn  exterminio ; 
....  lantern  fallax  defendit 

pari  sub  flagitio ; 

involutus  vitrio, 

si  subdit  judicio, 
sic  quod  judex  non  accendit 
nochis  olytos  <sic>  descendit 

[de]  coelesti  solio. 

Sexus  alter  similabit 

floris  agni  nebula; 
sed  lupum  corde  velabit 

vulpinaque  foedera : 
exemplar  dum  una  dabit 

quod  delinquit  altera, 
successive  pullulabit 

nova  semper  vipera; 

tarn  nova  quam  vetera 

pullulabit  scelera; 
male  natam  castigabit, 
immo  sibi  conformabit 

genitrix  adultera. 

Utinam  poetizando 

sancto  sub  velamine, 
atque  magis  memorando, 

hoc  dixissent  fceminse ; 
sed  in  mora  complicando 

texirnus  hoc  carmine, 
sibilante  detestando 

viperarum  germine ; 

jam  exuta  virgine, 

subinducto  crimine, 
corpus  semel  publicando, 
de  rubore  propinando, 

fit,  Tu  autem,  Domine. 

Explicit  de  veritate. 

*- 

The  following  example  of  the  Latin  lyrics  of  England  in  the 
thirteenth  century  is  interesting  for  its  subject  and  for  its  singular 
gracefulness  of  composition.  In  the  original  manuscript  it  is  written 
in  prose,  like  most  of  the  early  songs  of  this  description. 


94  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

SONG  ON  THE  VANITIES  OF  THE   COURT, 

[From  MS.  Arundel  Brit.  Mus.  No.  201,  fol.  73,  v°.] 

Rimatus  omnes  curias, 
magnas,  parvas,  et  medias, 
episcopates,  regias, 
curiarum  incurias 
multiformes  et  varias 

dum  video,  irrideo. 

nee  ideo 

a  curiis  abstineo, 

sed  ipsas  semper  adeo, 
rimatus  omnes  curias. 

In  curiis  sublimibus 
in  ipsis  curialibus 
non  est  locus  virtutibus, 
omnes  putrescunt  sordibus 
pusilli  cum  majoribus ; 

incuria,  malitia, 

fallacia, 

obsidet  tanquam  propria, 

virtuti  prsesunt  vitia 
in  curiis  sublimibus. 

Sublime  tenent  solium 
diplois  adulantium, 
jugis  scissura  cordium, 
rancor,  livor,  et  odium, 
spes,  timor,  ira,  gaudium, 

et  alia  flagitia, 

tarn  varia, 

tamque  detestabilia, 

et  siqua  sunt  similia, 
sublime  tenent  solium. 

Vitiis  dudum  deditus 


et  curiis  implicitus, 
dum  curiarum  aditus, 
harumque  graves  exitus, 
et  quod  casus  sit  subitus 

de  medio  concipio, 

desitio, 

cognitoque  vitio 


SONG  ON  THE  VANITIES  OF  THE  COURT.         95 

vitium  nee  effugio, 
vitiis  dudum  deditus. 

Ejectum  te  reperies 
forsan  in  die  septies, 
ubi  tamen  tu  nescies, 
nee  ut  surgas  adjicies, 
nam  omnes  in  te  senties 

irmere  cum  pondere, 

qui  prospere 

vitam  ducis  in  vespere, 

jam  lucis  orto  sidere 
ejectum  te  reperies. 

The  sentiments  of  the  foregoing  song  are  often  reproduced  in 
medieval  writers.  There  is  some  similarity  even  in  expression  in 
the  following  not  ungraceful  song  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which  is 
found  in  Nashe's  Have  with  you  to  Saffron  Walden,  and  which 
appears  worthy  of  reprinting. 

THE  WOOD-MANS  WALKE. 

My  first  dayes  walk  was  to  the  court 

Where  beautie  fed  my  eyes : 
Yet  found  I  that  the  courtly  sport 

Did  make  it  slie  disguise  : 

For  falsehood  sate  in  fairest  lookes 

And  friend  to  friend  was  coy  : 
Court-favour  filld  but  emptie  rookes, 

And  there  I  found  no  joy. 

Deserte  went  naked  in  the  colde, 

When  crouching  craft  was  fed  : 
Sweet  words  were  chepely  bought  and  sold, 

But  none  that  stood  in  sted. 

Wit  was  employd  for  each  mans  owne, 

Plain-meaning  came  too  short : 
All  these  devices  seen  and  knowne 

Made  me  forsake  the  Court. 

The  following  piece  was  printed  in  1809  from  the  same  MS.  in  the 
Bodleian  Library  which  has  already  contributed  so  much  towards 
the  present  volume,  by  J.  J.  Conybeare,  in  a  rare  tract  on  Octavian, 
p.  51.  It  resembles  very  closely  a  passage  in  the  French  Chastiement 
des  Dames,  published  in  Barbazan,  torn,  ii,  p.  213. 


96  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

ENGLISH  VERSES  ON  LOVE. 

[From  MS.  Digby,  No.  86.] 

Love  is  sofft,  love  is  swet,  love  is  goed  sware  ; 
Love  is  muche  tene,  love  is  muchel  kare ; 
Love  is  blissene  mest,  love  is  bot  $are ; 
Love  is  wondred  and  wo,  with  for  to  fare. 
Love  is  hap,  wo  it  haveth,  love  is  god  hele  ; 
Love  is  lecher  and  les  and  lef  for  to  tele ; 
Love  is  doute  in  the  world,  with  for  to  dele ; 
Love  maketh  in  the  land  moni  hounlele. 
Love  is  stalewarde,  and  strong  for  to  striden  on  stede ; 
Love  is  loveliche  a  thing  to  wommon  nede ; 
Love  is  harde  and  hote  as  glovinde  glede ; 
Love  maketh  moni  mai  with  teres  to  wede. 
Love  hath  his  stivart  by  sti  and  by  strete  ; 
Love  maketh  moni  mai  hire  wonges  to  wete  ; 
Love  is  hap,  wo  it  haveth,  hou  far  to  hete  ; 
Love  is  wis,  love  is  war,  and  wilfFul  an  wede- 
Love  is  the  sofftest  thing  in  herte  may  slepe ; 
Love  is  craft,  love  is  goed,  with  kares  to  kepe. 
Love  is  les,  love  is  lef,  love  is  longinge  ; 
Love  is  fol,  love  is  fast,  love  is  frowringe  ; 
Love  is  sellich  an  thing,  wose  shal  soth  singe. 
Love  is  wele,  love  is  wo,  love  is  geddede  ; 
Love  is  lif,  love  is  deth,  love  may  hous  fede. 
Were  love  also  londdrei  as  he  is  furst  kene, 
Hit  were  the  worthlokste  thing  in  werlde  were,  ich  wene: 
Hit  is  y-said  in  an  song,  soth  is  that  sene, 
Love  cometh  with  kare  and  hendeth  with  tene 
Mid  lavedi,  mid  wive,  mid  maide,  mid  quene. 

«f. 

One  of  the  characteristics  of  our  early  popular  poetry,  which  must\ 
have  had  its  foundation  in  the  state  of  society,  is  the  gross  manner  ^ 
in  which  the  fair  sex  is  continually  attacked.  Innumerable  examples 
might  be  cited  from  poetry  and  prose,  and  pieces  entirely  devoted  to 
the  subject  are  not  uncommon  in  manuscripts.  In  M.  Jubinal's 
collection  entitled  Jongleurs  et  Trouveres,  we  have  Li  epystles  des 
femes  (p.  21),  L'evangile  as  fames  (p.  26),  Le  blastanae  des  fames 
(p.  75),  and  Le  blasme  des  fames  (p.  79),  all  directed  against  the 
good  reputation  of  the  ladies  :  a  French  (or  Anglo-Norman)  poem  in 
the  Reliquias  Antiquse  (vol.  ii,  p.  221),  another  in  the  same  language 
entitled  La  jeste  des  dames,  (in  the  same  collection,  vol.  i,  p.  162), 


POEM  IN  PRAISE  OF  WOMEN.  97 

an  English  Song  on  Woman  (ib.  vol.  i,  p.  248),  and  a  scrap  in  Latin 
prose  (ib.  vol.  i,  p.  168)  take  the  same  view  of  the  subject,  and 
many  others  might  be  added  from  manuscripts.  In  a  French  song 
printed  in  my  Specimens  of  Lyric  Poetry  (p.  1 07)  the  ladies  are 
very  ungallantly  compared  to  magpies. 

The  softer  sex  was  not,  however,  entirely  without  its  advocates, 
as  may  be  seen  by  the  following  poem.  The  praise  of  the  ladies  is 
the  subject  of  a  very  elegant  poem  in  French,  printed  in  the  little 
volume  last  quoted  (p.  1),  of  a  poem  in  the  same  language  in  the 
Reliquiae  Antiquae  (vol.  ii,  p.  218),  of  an  English  song  in  the  same 
collection  (vol.  i,  p.  275),  and  of  another  English  song  of  which  two 
texts  (from  different  manuscripts)  are  printed  in  a  little  collection  of 
Songs  and  Carols,  (Pickering,  1836).  Among  other  pieces  on  this 
side  of  the  question  it  may  be  sufficient  to  indicate  a  Latin  poem  of 
some  length  in  MS.  Arundel.  (Brit.  Mus.)  No.  201,  fol.  68,  v°,  with 
the  title  Contra  eos  qui  dicunt,  feemina  nulla  bona,  in  which  a  number  • 
of  illustrious  females  are  enumerated,  and  which  ends  with  the 
lines — 

Fceminei  sexus  flores,  sine  fine  valete, 
Et  nostri  semper  memores  estote  poeta?, 
jErumnis  miseri  vatis  succurrite  vestri, 
Quas  commendavi  quamvis  sermone  pedestri. 
In  me  carnales  hostes  et  spirituales 
Jugiter  arma  ferunt,  et  me  subvertere  quaerunt ; 
Quos  omnes  sperno,  mihi  rege  favente  superno, 
Sub  vestra  parma  veniens  securus  ad  arma. 

POEM  IN  PRAISE  OF  WOMEN. 

[From  MS.  Berne,  No.  354,  fol.  174,  r".] 

Oez,  seignor,  je  n'otroi  pas 
Que  de  fame  face  nus  gas ; 
Je  n'otroi  pas  que  nus  en  die 
Nule  chose  fors  cortoisie. 
Fame  doit  1'an  tot  jors  servir, 
Et  de  tot  faire  a  son  plaisir  ; 
Nus  n'en  doit  dire  vilenie, 
Que  je  1'  tandroie  a  vilenie. 
Je  1'ai  oi,  c'est  veritez, 
Sa  conpeignie  valt  assez. 
II  fait  moult  bien  selonc  nature, 
Qui  en  fame  despant  sa  cure  : 
Bien  doit  entrer  en  sainte  eglise, 
o 


MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Qui  fame  aime,  qui  fame  prise  ; 
Sachiez,  bien  fait  que  faire  doit, 
Qui  fame  aime  et  qui  fame  croit : 
Sanz  prisier,  sanz  vanter  sovant, 
Doit  li  horn  faire  son  talant. 
Bien  lo  prove  boene  nature, 
Qui  sovant  a  de  fame  cure ; 
De  fame  doit-en  tot  biens  dire. 
De  boene  fame  nus  n'enpire. 
Ice  que  Eve  nos  toli, 
La  mere  Deu  lo  nos  randi, 
Et  por  la  mere  au  criator 
Doit  en  porter  a  fame  enor ; 
Et  por  itant  que  petit  vaut, 
Et  clers  et  lais,  se  Dex  me  saut, 
Se  fame  vialt,  je  1'  di  por  voir, 
Por  ce  doit  fame  enor  avoir. 
N'est  pas  de  Deu  desesperez, 
Qui  fame  fait  ses  volantez. 
Se  fame  n'estoit,  jo  di  bien, 
Toz  li  mondes  ne  valdroit  rien  : 
Que  ele  fait  joie  mener 
Toz  jors  plenieremant  chanter  ; 
Por  fame  chante  loriol, 
La  merle  et  lo  rosignol  ; 
Por  fame  chante  la  mauviz, 
Li  oiselet  es  plaisseiz  ; 
Por  fame  sont  maint  vers  trove, 
Et  por  amor  sont  raconte. 
Qui  fame  vialt  s'amor  doner, 
Gil  ne  doit  pas  joie  oblier, 
Si  1'oblie,  i  fait  que  fox, 
Je  ne  1'  pris  pas  un  tro  de  chox. 
Forlingniez  est  de  cele  cort 
O  la  fontaine  d'amor  sort ; 
Toz  jors  sera  malaurez, 
Se  par  fame  n'est  confortez. 
Verite  est  ce  que  j'ai  dit, 
Que  nus  ne  puet  avoir  delit, 
Endroit  son  cuer,  qui  vaille  rien, 
Se  de  fame  ne  dit  tot  bien. 
A  fame  doit-en  tot  bien  dire, 
Ne  li  face  coroz  ne  ire. 
Qui  fame  fait  ses  volantez, 


POEM  IN  PRAISE  OF  WOMEN.  99 

Serviz  en  est  et  enorez. 
Fame  est  preux,  et  cortoise,  et  sage, 
Fame  n'a  soin  d'ome  salvaje, 
Fame  est  la  flors  de  cortoisie, 
Fame  n'a  point  de  vilenie  : 
Horn  ne  sera  ja  si  vilains, 
Se  fame  1'a  entre  ses  mains, 
En  poi  d'ore  ne  soit  cortois, 
Et  bien  apris  de  totes  lois. 
Fame  nos  fait  loer  d 'amors  ; 
Fame  nos  fait  porter  les  flors  ; 
Fame  nos  fait  sovant  panser 
Conmant  puisson  d'amors  parler  ; 
Qant  fame  vialt,  ne  nos  fait  riens, 
De  soe  part  nos  vient  toz  biens. 
Fame  valt  moult  en  toz  endroiz ; 
Fame  font  bien  contes  et  rois. 
Puis  que  1'amor  de  fame  i  fait, 
L'autre  chose  moult  petit  valt. 
Fames  mainnent  joie  sovent ; 
Fame  del  plus  lie  fait  dolant ; 
Nule  n'en  pris  je,  sanz  savoir, 
Ne  que  richece,  sanz  avoir. 
Fame  vialt  mialz  que  nul  tresor, 
Fame  vialt  mialz  c' argent  ne  or, 
Fame  valt  miaux  que  nul  chastiax, 
Fame  valt  mialz  en  toz  endroiz 
Que  nus  destriers  ne  parlefroiz  ; 
Encor  valt  miauz  fame  assez 
Que  li  avoirs  de  M.  citez  ; 
Que  fame  est  dame  de  tot  bien, 
Qanq'a  el  monde  si  a  suen  ; 
Del  tot  somes  en  son  plaisir, 
Faire  nos  puet  vivre  et  morir, 
Qui  fame  sert,  et  qui  en  plore 
Ainz  ne  s'andoille  qui  1'anore. 
Por  tant  devon  fame  sofrir, 
Que  ne  poons  sanz  li  garir. 
Por  Deu,  la  nostre  criator, 
Porter  devon  a  fame  enor. 

The  Arundel  Manuscript  already  quoted,  among  a  considerable 
mass  of  Latin  verse  of  the  thirteenth  (or  perhaps  of  the  elid  of  the 
twelfth)  century,  contains  the  following  short  piece  illustrative  of  the 


100  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

character  of  the  jogelour  or  minstrel  (whose  name  is  often  repre 
sented  in  Latin  by  mimus).  The  jogelour  belonged  to  the  class  of 
society  known  by  the  general  term  of  ribalds,  and  was  commonly 
employed  in  gross  and  degrading  representations  as  well  as  in 
chaunting  poetry  and  rehearsing  tales.  An  interesting  description  of 
his  character  is  given  by  John  of  Salisbury,  Polycraticus,  lib.  i,  c.  8. 


THE  AGED  JOGELOUR. 

[From   MS.   Arundel,   No.   201,  fol.   72,  v°  ] 

De  mimo  jam  sene,  ut  resipiscat. 

Usus  es  in  theatris  crebro  sermonibus  atris, 

Non  dispar  matris  moribus  atque  patris ; 
Versibus  in  coenis  mordacibus  atque  camocnis 

Usus  es  obscoenis,  et  puer  et  juvenis. 
Cum  tua  jam  variis  signentur  tempera  canis, 

Illicitos  modules  qua  ratione  canis  1 
^Egris  crementum  tua  vox  est,  causaque  sam's 

Languoris,  veluti  morbida  stella  cariis. 
Amodo  desistas  gestis  intendere  vanis, 

Innocuosque  viros  rodere  more  canis. 
Seria  secteris,  et  displiceant  tibi  nugce  ; 

Dilige  justitiam,  justitiumque  fuge  ; 
Sitque  tibi  studium  circa  moralia  juge, 

Et  veterum  patrum  dogma  salubre  suge. 
Dumque  tui  compos  es  adhuc,  tua  crimina  luge, 

Sabbata  cum  bruma  sunt  minus  apta  fuge. 
Accessum  furis  si  quis  sciret  vigilaret, 

Lethaeo  sompno  nee  sua  menbra  daret. 
Mortis  venturse  cunctis  instantia  claret ; 

Omnibus  incertum  est  quando  venire  paret. 
Corpus  multiplici  sinthomate  marcet  et  aret, 

Postremo  veniens  mors  pietate  caret. 
Non  opibus  pleni  miseretur,  sed  nee  egeni, 

Non  novit  juveni  parcere  sive  seni. 
Indulgere  guise  fuge  toto  pectore,  mula3 

Ingluviem  vel  equi  ne  videare  sequi. 
Ventri  donatus  semper  sitit,  atque  cibatus, 

Sit  licet  ad  sacias  ibit  in  inficias. 
Cum  nequam  ditis  nequeas  vim  vincere  vitis, 

In  virtute  Dei  sit  tibi  summa  spei. 


METRICAL  TREATISE  ON  GEOGRAPHY.          101 

IF  Responsio  mimi. 

Si  sine  principle  das  scordeon,  et  sine  fine, 

Non  te  concutient  dampna,  flagella,  minae. 
Reddit  saepe  reum  tenuis  substantia  rerum, 


Si  tibi  sit  gratum  vites  ut  utrumque  reatum  : 

Inter  utrumque  tene,  sic  gradiere  bene. 
Si  me  sors  ungit  blande  vel  acumine  pungit, 

Pectore  sincere  gratis  utrumque  fero. 
Jure  licet  sigalo  sit  praeponenda  siligo  ; 

Si  tamen  hoc  careo  vescor  ovanter  eo. 
Cervisiae  sperno  potum,  praesente  Falerno  ; 

Et  tamen  hanc  quaero  deficiente  mero. 
Si  caro  sit  praesto  piscem  contempno,  sed  esto 

Quod  caro  defuerit,  hie  mihi  gratus  erit. 
Coccineam  pallam  plus  approbo  quam  caracallam  ; 

Si  tamen  ilia  vacet,  haec  mihi  sola  placet. 
Gaudeo  si  tectum  mini  sit  de  marmore  sectum ; 

Si  non,  vimineum  sufficit  aut  luteum. 
Est  pluris  bellus  sonipes  quam  parvus  asellus  ; 

Hoc  equitabo  pecus,  si  mihi  desit  equus. 
Qui  trax  censeris,  foedus  stultusque  videris; 

Si  conformeris  tu  mihi  doctus  eris. 

f 

I  close  this  little  collection  with  a  metrical  treatise  in  Latin  on 
Geography,  kindly  communicated  to  me  by  my  friend  Monsieur 
D'Avezac  (the  eminent  geographer)  from  a  manuscript  in  the 
Royal  Library  at  Paris,  stated  to  be  of  the  twelfth  century.  The 
peculiar  style  of  the  language  and  rythm  bespeaks  its  antiquity.  It 
is  unfortunately  imperfect  in  the  part  where  we  should  expect  an 
account  of  our  own  island.  Verse  was  frequently  applied  to  scien 
tific  subjects  in  the  middle  ages.  It  may  be  observed  that  the 
orthography  of  the  manuscript  is  here  strictly  observed. 

AN   ANONYMOUS    METRICAL   TREATISE 
ON  GEOGRAPHY. 

[From  the  Bibl.  Royale  at  Paris,  MS.  5091,  olim  Colbertinus,  ad  calcum 
codicis.] 

Versus  de  promntiis  parcium  mundi. 

Asia  ab  oriente  vocata  antiquitus 

a  regina,  cujus  nomen  sumpsit  in  imperio. 


102  MISCELLANEOUS  PIECES. 

Haec  in  tertia  parte  orbis  est  posita, 
ab  orients  ortu  solis,  maris  a  meridie, 
ab  occiduoque  mari  Tirrenum  conjungitur ; 
septentrione  fluviale  Tanaique  cingitur. 
Habet  primum  paradisi  hortorum  delicias, 
omni  genere  pomorum  circumseptus  graminat ; 
habet  eciam  vitse  lignum  intermedio. 
Non  est  aestas  neque  frigus,  sincera  temperies ; 
fons  manat  inde  perhennis,  fluitque  in  rivulis  : 
post  peccatum  interclusus  est  primi  hominis, 
circumseptus  est  undique  rumphea  ignea, 
ita  pene  usque  caelum  jungit  incendia  ; 
angelorum  est  vallatus  Cherubin  prsesidia. 

India  habet  in  ipsa  opulenta  patria, 
gentes  plurimasque  gestat  atque  magna  oppida, 
insulaque  Taprobane  elefantes  nutriat. 

Auro  argentoque  est  fecunda,  atque  plures  gemmulas, 
crisolitus  atque  berillus,  adamans,  carbunculus, 
leonita,  margaritas,  uniones  pullulat, 
septa  cum  miranda  ave  et  in  cantu  nobile, 
unicornis  et  cameli,  dracones  et  cimere. 
Ibi  sunt  auri  montes,  quos  custodent  bestise. 
Parcia  et  Aracusa,  simul  et  Asiria ; 
India  juncta  est  prope ;  nee  minus  quoque  perfida 
Babilonia  interque  sunt  confusse  linguae. 
Arabia  turris  ornata,  et  in  saltis  immania ; 
nascitur  ibi  mirra,  et  sardonis  gemmula. 
Fenix  nuncupatur  avis,  quae  renascitur  mortua. 
Palestina  et  Judea,  simul  et  Samaria, 
Pentapolis  et  Galilea,  Aegiptus  exicia, 
Bactriana  et  Archana^  candescit  Albania. 
Arminia  sicque  consurgit;  juncta  est  Hiberia, 
Cappadociaque  minor,  ortusque  Asia 

nuncupatur ;  nee  de  prope  Frigia ; 

Lioia  sedes  antiqua torrentes  plurimos ; 

et  in  Isauria  salubris  prominet  Cilicia, 

et  Licia  inter  ipsas,  montem  gestat  Cimeras, 

cujus  ignis  flammas  mittit,  et  nocturnis  sestibus. 

In  Sicilicia  Ethna,  solisque  Campania 

ita  flagrat  flamma  ignis,  vivensque  per  tempora. 

Ad  Europam  properemus  Agenoris  filiam, 
quam  Jovis  arreptam  assumpsit  duxitque  in  Grecia; 
aurum  corrupit  primum,  nomen  dedit  patriae. 
Scithia  vocatur  prima  Europae  provincia. 


METRICAL  TREATISE  ON  GEOGRAPHY.          103 

Meotidas  paludes  sistit  Albania ; 
vertitur  exinde  locus  nuncupatur  Dacia ; 
unde  Gocia  eminet  adversus  Dalmatiam. 
Pannonia  ad  Cisalpinos  montesque  conglomerat, 
cespite  ubere  ferens,  ad  jumentis  pabula. 
Germania  nuncupatur,  juncta  Reno  flumine, 
ubi  sunt  gentes  amare  et  grandevo  corpore, 
obdurato  corde  sepe,  caeli  partes  incolse, 
animo  feroce  sistunt,  semperque  indomiti, 
rapta  venenata  vivunt,  per  venena  toxici. 
Plurimse  in  ipsis  locis  variantur  linguae, 
Suevorum  pars  quse,  inter  quos  aquilonis  indicat, 
quorum  pagos  centum  narrat  simul  et  familias. 
Mons  Suevus  est  vocatus,  a  quo  nomen  inchoat. 
Danubius  currit  per  longum  inter  gentes  maximas, 
fluvios  largos  ministrat,  et  Sclavis  pabula, 
Chunis  pergit  medianis,  Winedis  saciat, 
interfuso  oceano  ubi  manent  Saxones, 
agiles  et  cordurati  et  in  armis  validi. 
Scitdi  sevi  et  Fresones,  valentque  pirati. 
Franci  demum  a  Francone  nomen  prius  sumpserunt, 
armati  et  feroces,  regna  plura  ceperunt, 
modo  tenent  Christiani,  cum  divino  munere. 
Gallia  Belgica  dicta,  super  ripas  Sequane, 
ubi  sunt  villse  regales,  et  venusti  principes, 
ad  bellandum  fortes  viri,  pugnando  terribiles. 
Lugdunenses  sunt  vocatse  Gallise  provinciae, 
quam  insident  Burgundi,  ....  cum  ingenti  gloria. 
Rodanus  fluit  per  earn,  tendit  ad  Hispaniam. 

vocatur  inde,  ultra  ripas  Sequanee. 

Juncta  litus  Oceani  pertingit  ad  Ligerem, 
patria  fecunda  nimis,  conjuncta  Brittonibus. 

Aquitania  consurgens  maxima  provincia, 
Ligeris  limbo  exorta  usque  in  Dornonia, 
et  Garonna  circumfusa,  currens  per  planiciem. 
Gabirius  sicque  ad  urcus  exilent  de  montibus. 
Wascones  incolunt  terram,  per  divexa  vallium. 
Septimania  interque  pertingens  et  ad  Alpes. 
Spania  ab  Hibero  dicta  est  Hibera, 
Spalo  postea  vocaverunt,  unde  nunc  Spania, 
tercio  nomen  ferens  narratur  Speria. 

Copia  gemmarum  magna,  metallis  ditissima, 
flumina  currunt  per  earn,  Hiberus  et  Mineas; 
Tagus  aurum  gignit  multum,  simul  alque  minio. 


104  MISCELLANEOUS   PIECES. 

Italia  olim  a  Grecis  obsessa  adquiritur, 
deinde  a  Saturno  nomen  tale  censetur  ; 
longa  in  circuitu,  lata  minus  panditur  ; 
habet  locum  venenatum  Avernum  et  Lucrinum, 
fluviumque  Eridanum,  et  Tiberim  maximum. 
Sic  tubantes  manat  fontes,  binar  gemmas  tribuit. 
Tuscia  atque  Ruria  juncta  finem  Tiberis 
ubi  Romula  est  sita,  et  est  onus  nobilis, 
in  imperio  est  caput  cunctisque  provinciis. 
Tracia  atque  Hiberus,  Hiladas,  Dalmatia, 
Philipenses  et  Tessali,  juncta  Machedonia, 
Achaia  atque  Archadia,  nectitque  Pannonia. 

Sicilia  a  rege  Secano  vocata  antiquitus, 
promontoria  Pirorum,  Pacinum  et  Libenum 
ab  Italia  disjunctum,  fretumque  exiguum. 
Terra  fructum  multum  aurum  abundantium, 
per  cavernas  penetratur  ventorum  spiritus, 

sulphureum  habet  odorem,  ignemque 

Clauditur  ambitus  trium  milium  stadiorum 

narrat uta  Salustius. 

In  Sicilia  Ethna  novem  ardent  jugiter. 

in  oceano,  mareque  concluditur, 

quadragies  sociis  quinque  septuaginta  milibus, 
uberes  emanat  fontes,  terraque  fructifera. 
Taratus  insula  vertilis  et  Archadis  plurimas. 
Hibernia  maxima  floret  multa  sapientia, 
vermiumque  sic  purgata,  apium  aculia. 
Hue  usque  nunc  in  oceano  reperiuntur  insulae. 
Multa  sunt  in  sinu  maris,  qua?  ignorant  homin  T  . 
Si  quis  vellet  perlustrare,  multum  haberet  per  o .  . 

Corpore  non  magnus,  verborum  flore  sed  altus, 

Priscorum  varia  eloquor  excidia ; 
Hie  tamen  ut  fierem,  multis  licet  agnitus  essem, 

Me,  Roberte,  tuo  edideras  calamo. 
Sed  Constantinus,  abbatum  nobile  sydus, 

Hoc  fieri  voluit  sedulus  et  monuit. 
Hinc  veniam  sceleris  lector  sibi  posce  fidelis, 

Et  servare  velis  me,  rogo,  dum  relegis. 


APPENDIX. 


The  following  version  of  the  story  of  the  Miller  and  the  two  Clerks 
is  reprinted  from  an  unique  tract  of  the  sixteenth  century,  preserved 
in  the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford,  bearing  the  following  title : — 

A  ryght  pleasaunt  and  merye  Historic  of  the  Mylner  of  Abyngdon, 
with  his  wife,  and  his  fayre  daughter :  and  of  two  poore  scholers  of 
Cambridge.  Where vnto  is  adioyned  another  merye  jest  of  a  Sar- 
geaunt  that  woulde  haue  learned  to  be  a  fryar.  Imprinted  at  London 
by  Rycharde  J  hones. 

Although  it  contains  some  incidents  which  seem  to  show  a  close 
connection  both  with  the  French  fabliau  printed  in  the  present 
volume,  and  with  the  tale  as  related  by  Chaucer,  yet  other  parts  of 
the  story  here  vary  so  widely  from  both,  that  the  writer  seems  to 
have  used  some  older  independent  version  of  the  same  story.  On 
this  account  only  it  merits  to  be  reprinted. 

THE  MILLER  OF  ABINGTON. 

A  verie  merie  Historic  of  the  Milner  of  Abington. 

Fayre  lordings,  if  you  list  to  heere 
A  mery  jest  your  mindes  to  cheere, 
Then  barken  to  this  mery  tale, 
Was  never  meryer  set  to  sale. 
At  Abyngton  it  so  befell, 
Therby  a  widowe  late  did  dwell ; 
She  had  two  sonnes  that  she  loved  well, 
For  father  had  they  none. 
At  Cambridge  are  they  set,  I  wene, 
Five  mile  is  them  bytwene, 
Their  spendinge  was  full  inene, 
To  the  scole  there  did  they  go, 
Some  learning  for  to  get,  you  knowe ; 
By  good  mens  helpe  they  were  kept  so, 
Other  finding  none  they  had. 
This  life  longe  they  ledde, 
The  mother  founde  them  at  borde  and  bedde, 
And  by  these  meanes  were  they  fedde 
p 


106  APPENDIX. 

More  than  seven  yere. 

Their  mother  then  upon  a  dale, 

To  Cambridge  she  toke  the  waie, 

And  to  hir  sonnes  gan  she  saie 

With  a  hevy  chere, 

"  Sonnes,  I  will  be  here  anone, 

And  than  I  wot  ye  will  come  home ; 

But  corne  nor  bread  can  I  get  none, 

The  countrey  is  so  deere." 

"  Mother,"  then  they  sayd  anone, 

"  We  wyll  into  the  countrey  gone 

To  good  men,  and  make  our  mone, 

If  wee  may  any  thinge  get." 

So  longe  they  went  from  towne  to  towne, 

In  the  countrey  up  and  downe, 

That  they  gate  in  short  season 

A  large  met  of  wheate. 

Than  anone  when  they  it  had, 

Unto  their  mother  they  it  lad, 

And  she  therof  was  full  glad ; 

But  longe  they  ne  let, 

But  at  their  neyghbours  house  on  the  morne 

They  borowed  a  horse  to  cary  their  corne 

To  the  mille  them  beforne, 

For  nothing  wolde  they  let. 

The  mylner  was  joly  in  his  workes  all ; 

He  had  a  doughter  fayre  and  small, 

The  clerke  of  the  towne  loved  her  above  all, 

Jankyn  was  his  name. 

The  mylner  was  so  trewe  and  fele, 

Of  each  mannes  corne  wolde  he  steale 

More  than  his  toledish  by  a  deale  : 

He  let  for  no  shame. 

He  was  so  subtyll  and  so  slye, 

He  wolde  it  take  before  their  eye, 

And  make  them  a  proper  lye, 

And  put  himselfe  out  of  blame. 

To  the  mylner  they  were  sande, 

In  the  mylle-dore  dyd  he  stande  ; 

They  tied  their  horse  with  a  bande, 

They  had  harde  of  his  name. 

That  one  clerke  to  that  other  sware, 

"  Of  the  theefe  we  wyll  be  ware ; 

Have  he  never  so  inykell  care, 


THE   MILLER  OF  ABINGTON.  107 

Of  our  corne  getteth  he  but  small, 

Though  he  go  out  of  his  wyt. 

Thou  shalte  by  the  spoute  syt 

Tyll  the  poke  faste  be  knyt, 

And  the  meale  in  all, 

Though  he  be  never  so  wo. 

And  I  wyl  up  unto  the  stones  go  ; 

And  he  begyle  us  bothe  two, 

Foule  might  him  befall !" 

The  corne  up  the  milner  wan, 

And  than  the  clerke  fast  up  ran, 

By  the  stones  styll  stode  he  than, 

Tyll  it  was  grounde  in  fere. 

The  mylners  house  is  nere, 

Not  the  length  of  a  lande, 

In  a  valey  can  it  stande, 

Two  myle  from  Abyngton. 

In  his  herte  had  he  care, 

For  the  clerkes  were  so  ware, 

He  myght  not  do  as  he  dyd  are, 

But  to  his  sonne  gan  ronne. 

"  Boy,  loke  thou  let  for  no  drede, 

The  clerkes  horse  home  thou  lede 

Also  faste  as  thou  may  spede, 

Or  the  meale  be  done. 

Behinde  my  backhouse  dore  him  set ; 

For  they  shall  fayle  of  their  met, 

Tho  the  poke  fast  be  knet, 

I  sweare  by  my  crowne." 

The  litell  boye  stint  nought 

Till  the  horse  was  home  brought, 

Thereof  wiste  the  clerkes  nought, 

For  sothe  as  I  you  saie. 

The  clerkes  their  meale  up  hent, 

And  out  at  the  dore  they  went, 

"  Alas!"  they  said,  "  we  be  shent! 

[Oure  horse  is  run  away."] 

"  By  God,"  than  the  milner  sware, 

"  Than  get  you  him  no  mare, 

For  some  theefe  was  of  him  ware, 

And  hath  had  him  away." 

The  one  clerke  sayd  to  the  other. 

"Go  we  seke  hym  selfe,  brother, 

Thou  one  way,  and  I  another, 


108  APPENDIX. 

Finde  him  if  we  maie." 

But  ever  they  drede  of  the  meale, 

That  the  milner  wolde  therof  steale  ; 

The  poke  they  bounde,  and  set  on  a  seale, 

And  their  horse  than  sought  they. 

The  mylner  laughed  them  to  scorne, 

And  great  othes  hath  he  sworne, 

If  he  might  have  none  of  their  corne, 

He  wolde  have  of  their  meale. 

His  daughter  to  the  mille  can  fare, 

And  his  diner  to  him  bare, 

And  also  faste  he  tolde  hir  yare 

All  every  deale, 

How  two  clerkes  in  the  morne 

Brought  with  them  a  met  of  corne, 

"  And  ever  they  warned  mee  beforne> 

That  I  shoulde  none  steale : 

But  do  now,  doughter,  as  I  thee  saie, 

Go  fet  mee  a  shete,  I  the  pray, 

And  in  faithe  I  will  do  saie 

To  get  of  the  meale. 

For  nothinge  wolde  [he]  let, 

On  a  whyte  shete  he  it  set, 

And  moche  floure  he  out  bet, 

And  hole  was  the  seale. 

With  two  staves  in  the  stoure 

They  dange  theron  whyles  they  myght  doure, 

Till  they  had  a  pecke  of  floure, 

For  sothe  as  I  you  say. 

They  gathered  it  up  than  anone, 

And  put  in  a  poke  full  soone, 

And  bade  his  daughter  beare  it  home, 

Even  the  ryght  way. 

Then  the  clerkes  had  mykell  thought, 

For  their  horse  they  sought, 

That  they  him  finde  might  nought 

Of  all  that  longe  day. 

And  whan  the  night  drewe  nere, 

At  the  mylle  they  met  in  fere, 

And  bothe  they  made  a  simple  chere, 

For  their  goodly  hackeny. 

That  one  clerke  sayd,  "  by  God  of  might, 

Me  thinke  our  poke  is  waxen  light, 

I  thinke  it  be  not  all  aryght, 


THE  MILLER  OF  ABINGTON.  109 

That  lyketh  mee  full  yll. 

My  heed  therto  dare  I  lay, 

That  he  hath  stolen  some  away." 

That  other  clarke  sayd,  "  Nay,  nay, 

The  scale  standeth  on  sty  11." 

They  both  did  to  the  milner  say, 

"  Herberowe  us  to  night,  we  thee  pray, 

And  we  wyll  therfore  well  pay, 

What  so  ever  thou  wyll ; 

For  we  dare  not  to  the  towne  gone, 

Tyll  we  bring  our  horse  home  : 

If  we  do,  by  swete  saynte  John, 

We  mon  like  it  yll." 

The  mylner  sayd,  "  By  Goddes  might, 

I  shall  harborowe  you  to  night, 

And  your  supper  shall  be  dight 

Right  well,  if  wee  may." 

There  they  bare  their  meale  bitwene  them  two, 

And  home  with  the  mylner  dyd  they  go ; 

His  wife  welcomed  them  tho, 

So  dyd  his  doughter  gay. 

Aboute  a  fyre  they  were  set, 

And  good  ale  was  there  fet, 

And  therwith  they  their  mouthes  wet, 

And  soone  souped  they. 

At  their  supper,  as  they  made  them  glad, 

That  one  clerke  nyce  countenaunce  made, 

And  prively  on  the  maidens  foote  he  treade, 

And  she  tourned  awaie. 

Whan  they  had  eaten  and  made  them  glad, 

The  milner  his  daughter  bade 

Soone  that  a  bed  were  made, 

"  Also  fast  as  you  maie. 

And  make  it  by  the  side  brinke, 

That  the  clarkes  may  therein  winke, 

And  slepe  till  it  be  daie. 

For  I  will  to  my  bedde  win : 

And  if  you  here  any  din, 

It  is  my  man  dothe  come  in, 

Forsothe  as  I  you  saie ; 

For  he  is  in  the  towne  at  his  warke, 

Whan  he  dothe  come  in,  the  hounde  will  bark," 

This  inent  the  milner  by  the  clarke, 

That  helde  his  daughter  gay. 


110  APPENDIX. 

By  one  side  the  clarke  lay, 

By  the  other  side  his  wife  and  he,  I  saie, 

And  for  his  doughter  so  gay 

Another  bedde  was  dyght, 

In  a  chamber,  as  I  weene, 

Was  a  wall  them  betweene  ; 

And  a  cake  she  made  so  clene, 

Thereof  the  clarkes  had  a  sight : 

Of  their  owne  meale  it  was. 

Hir  lemman  befell  suche  a  case, 

Herken,  sirs,  howe  it  was, 

That  he  might  not  come  that  night ; 

For  to  a  faire  was  there  beside, 

On  his  maisters  errande  for  to  ride 

Erly  in  the  morowe  tide, 

Before  any  day  light. 

This  one  clarke  styll  he  lay, 

And  thought  on  this  damsell  gay, 

And  to  his  brother  can  he  saie, 

"  What  is  mee  best  to  do  1 

For  by  God  and  by  Saint  Mighell, 

I  thinke  so  on  the  damosell, 

I  had  muche  lever  than  I  can  tell 

That  I  might  winne  hir  to." 

His  brother  said,  "  This  is  nought: 

Of  my  horse  I  have  more  thought, 

By  Jesu  that  mee  deere  bought, 

Howe  we  maie  winne  him  to." 

"  Yet  lie  still,  brother,  1  the  praie, 

For  come  there  what  come  maie, 

At  the  dore  I  will  assaie 

If  it  will  undoe." 

This  one  clarke  to  the  dore  can  fare, 

She  said,  "  Jankin,  be  ye  there  ]  " 

"  Ye,  forsothe,"  he  did  answere, 

And  in  there  did  he  go. 

Against  a  fourme  he  hurte  his  shin, 

Or  he  might  to  the  bedde  win, 

Therfore  the  clarke  was  wo. 

"  Jankin,"  she  said,  "  for  Mary  dere, 

Whie  do  ye  make  such  cheere  ] 

Your  way  shoulde  you  better  leere, 

So  oft  as  you  come  heere." 

At  that  worde  the  clarke  loughe, 


THE  MILLER  OF  ABINGTON.  Ill 

And  by  the  voice  to  her  he  drough, 

Of  her  he  had  his  will  ynough, 

And  plaide  them  togyther. 

Whan  the  clarke  had  done  his  will, 

By  the  damosell  he  lay  full  stil, 

And  belyve  she  said  him  til, 

How  two  clarkes  came  thyther 

Upon  the  Monday  at  morne, 

And  brought  with  them  a  met  of  corne 

On  a  horse  them  beforne, 

"  And  bothe  they  were  full  lither  ; 

For  the  one  clarke  stode  at  the  spoute 

Thereas  the  meale  shoulde  come  out, 

That  other  went  ever  aboute, 

And  let  us  of  our  pray. 

My  father  did  see  it  might  be  none  other, 

He  rowned  unto  my  brother, 

And  bade  it  shoulde  be  none  other, 

But  lede  their  horse  away. 

My  litel  brother  blinned  nought, 

Ere  their  horse  was  home  brought  ; 

Like  two  fooles  they  have  him  sought 

All  this  longe  daie. 

As  we  at  our  supper  sate, 

That  one  clarke  nice  countenaunce  made, 

And  privelie  on  my  foote  he  trade, 

But  ever  I  tourned  awaie. 

Upon  the  poke  he  set  the  seale, 

For  my  father  shoulde  none  steale, 

Yet  we  had  of  their  meale, 

And  of  their  whitest  floure. 

For  nothinge  wolde  he  let, 

On  a  shete  we  it  set, 

And  with  two  staves  it  bet 

As  longe  as  we  might  doure  ; 

And  into  our  backhouse  their  horse  is  brought, 

Therof  wotte  the  clerkes  nought." 

The  clarke  laught  and  made  good  cheere, 

Whan  he  of  that  myght  heare, 

"  That  was  well  done,  my  derling  deere, 

By  God  my  Saviour  !  " 

Both  together  asleepe  they  fell ; 

Of  the  other  clarke  I  wyll  you  tell, 

And  of  the  mylners  wife  how  it  befell, 


112  APPENDIX. 

A  whyle  if  you  will  abide. 

All  waking  styl  he  laye, 

And  in  his  heart  he  thought  aye, 

"  My  felowe  hath  a  merie  plaie 

In  this  even  tide." 

The  mylners  wife  did  rise  water  to  make, 

Stilly,  for  the  milner  should  not  wake, 

The  right  way  againe  could  she  not  take, 

For  the  house  was  so  wide ; 

But  a  childe  in  a  cradell  laie 

At  the  beddes  feete,  as  I  you  saie, 

Thereby  she  knew  the  right  waye 

Unto  hir  beddes  side. 

The  clarke  laie  and  harde  ylke  dele, 

And  of  the  cradell  he  wy  st  well, 

"  And  if  thou  rise  by  saint  Michaell, 

The  cradell  shal  awaie." 

Againe  he  rose  or  she  did  sleepe, 

The  clarke  thereof  tooke  good  keepe, 

Out  of  his  bedde  soone  he  can  creepe 

As  fast  as  ever  he  maie. 

For  nothing  woulde  he  let, 

The  cradell  away  he  fet, 

At  his  beddes  side  he  it  set, 

Forsothe  as  I  you  saye. 

The  good  wife  came  anone, 

And  tyll  her  husbande  can  she  gone, 

But  cradell  founde  she  there  none, 

Shee  did  seeke  full  faste  alwaie. 

All  about  she  groped  fast, 

The  cradell  founde  shee  at  the  last. 

The  milner  did  sleepe  full  fast, 

And  wist  not  of  this  warke. 

By  the  cradell  that  she  there  fande, 

She  had  went  it  had  bene  hir  husbande, 

She  lyft  up  the  clothes  with  her  hande, 

And  laide  her  downe  by  the  clarke. 

Thus  that  one  clarke  laye  by  the  wife, 

That  other  by  the  daughter,  by  my  life  ! 

Had  the  milner  wist,  there  had  ben  strife 

For  that  nights  warke. 

That  one  clarke  waked  and  he  dyd  say, 

That  by  the  milners  daughter  lay, 

"  I  must  to  a  faire  gone  or  it  be  day," 


THE  MILLER  OF  ABINGTON.  113 

And  on  he  did  his  sarke. 

"  Now  I  pray  you,  my  hinde  lemman  free, 

A  gowne  cloath  then  buie  you  mee, 

And  I  sweare,  so  mote  I  thee, 

I  wyll  paye  therefore." 

"  By  Jesu,"  he  saide,  "  my  sweeting, 

I  have  but  three  shylling, 

That  is  but  a  lyttle  thing 

But  if  I  had  more." 

Thus  the  clarke  he  made  it  towe, 

The  damsell  her  forcer  to  her  drawe, 

"  By  God,  ye  shall  have  inowe 

For  to  paie  therefore." 

The  key  by  the  cofer  did  hange, 

Forthe  she  drewe  thirty  shillinge, 

Forsothe  every  farthinge, 

And  neither  lesse  nor  more. 

The  thirtie  shillinge  she  gan  him  take, 

"  This  made  I,  sir,  for  your  sake, 

Take  it  nowe  with  you  all." 

"  Now  have  good  day,  mine  owne  swetinge, 

For  longe  or  any  day  dothe  springe, 

The  cocke  full  merelie  his  note  will  singe, 

And  my  maister  will  mee  call." 

Full  merie  chere  the  clarke  can  make 

With  thirty  shillinge  and  his  cake, 

The  righte  waie  can  he  take 

Downe  by  the  wall, 

Till  he  came  at  his  brothers  bedde, 

Than  from  the  cradell  away  he  yedde, 

And  anone  away  he  fledde 

On  the  further  side  of  the  hall. 

Of  his  silver  he  toke  good  keepe, 

Downe  by  the  milner  can  he  creepe, 

And  wakened  him  out  of  his  sleepe, 

And  said,  "  Wilte  thou  heare  a  good  game! 

For  I  have  had  a  merie  night 

With  the  milners  daughter  bright ; 

Mee  liketh  wel,  by  Gods  might, 

That  we  wende  not  home. 

For  I  have  thirty  shillinge  and  a  cake, 

That  the  false  theefe  fro  our  corne  did  take." 

With  that  the  milner  did  wake. 

"  By  God  and  by  Saint  Jhon, 


114  APPENDIX. 

And  also  she  hath  mee  tolde 

Howe  he  hath  our  horse  in  holde, 

In  his  backhouse  he  hath  him  bolde, 

I  praie  God  give  him  shame  !  " 

The  milner  starte  up  redely, 

"  Thou  liest,"  he  said,  "  with  great  envy, 

And  that  shalte  thou  full  dere  abye  : 

Theefe,  what  hast  thou  done  1  " 

He  sterte  up  in  a  great  teene, 

And  stout  strokes  was  them  betweene ; 

The  milner  was  the  more  keene, 

And  gate  the  clarke  downe. 

His  wife  waked  anone  right, 

"  Out,  sir,"  she  said,  "the  clerkes  do  fight, 

The  one  will  slee  the  other  to  night, 

But  if  you  parte  them  soone." 

The  clarke  wakened,  and  had  great  wonder, 

But  he  durste  them  not  sunder, 

Full  well  he  sawe  his  felowe  under 

By  the  light  of  the  mone. 

The  milners  wife  hent  a  staffe  tite, 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  who  shall  I  smite  1 " 

"  Dame,"  sayde  the  clarke,  "  him  in  the  white, 

Hit  him  if  thou  maie." 

The  milner  befel  a  foule  happe, 

He  had  on  his  night-cappe, 

His  wife  lent  him  suche  a  rappe, 

That  stil  on  grounde  he  laie. 

Thus  the  milners  heed  was  broken, 

The  backhouse  faste  was  stoken, 

Beleeve  mee,  the  clarkes  braste  it  open, 

And  in  than  went  they. 

The  meale  on  the  horse  they  caste, 

And  awaye  they  hyed  them  faste, 

With  all  their  things  home  they  paste 

Long  or  any  day. 

Forth  they  went  by  moonelight, 

To  Abingdon  they  came  right 

Before  it  was  day  light, 

Home  unto  their  dame. 

Than  was  her  heart  full  light, 

Whan  she  sawe  her  sonne  in  sight, 

She  thanked  God  with  all  her  might 

That  they  were  comen  home. 


THE  MILLER  OF  ABINGTON.  115 

All  their  meale  and  thirtie  shylling 

They  gave  their  mother  Avithout  leasing, 

And  sence  they  tolde  her  of  that  thing, 

They  let  for  no  blame. 

Their  mother  saide,  "  If  yee  doo  right, 

Keepe  ye  well  out  of  his  sight, 

For  if  he  may  get  you,  by  Goddes  might, 

He  wyll  doo  you  shame," 

Of  that  silver  the  clarkes  were  faine, 

The  one  clarke  hied  with  all  his  maine, 

And  ledde  their  horse  home  againe 

Uppon  the  same  morne. 

The  mother  them  a  capon  slew, 

And  of  the  cake  they  eate  inowe, 

And  soone  to  Cambridge  they  drew, 

Thereas  they  were  beforne. 

Twentie  shylling  with  them  they  bare, 

Unto  the  schole  gan  they  fare ; 

The  mylner  gate  of  them  no  mare, 

Tf  he  had  it  sworne. 

Whan  they  were  gone  these  scollers  bothe, 

I  tell  you  plaine  this  milner  was  lothe, 

And  to  his  bedde  againe  he  gothe, 

For  he  was  full  of  paine. 

His  wife  before  had  given  him 

Vengeable  strypes,  by  swete  saint  Sim  ; 

She  had  almoste  broken  bothe  lithe  and  lim 

Of  the  milner,  I  tell  you  plaine. 

And  so  the  milner  and  his  wife, 

For  this  folishe  deede  they  had  great  strife 

All  the  dayes  of  their  life, 

That  he  had  ben  so  mad. 

And  the  daughter  that  was  yonge 

Did  often  singe  a  sory  songe, 

And  wished  for  the  clarke  that  was  so  longe 

With  her  gowne  clothe  to  make  her  glad  ; 

And  also  for  his  mery  play, 

She  longed  for  him  full  sore  in  fay, 

That  he  should  come  againe  that  waie, 

Though  she  should  never  the  clothe  see. 

The  wenche  she  was  full  proper  and  nyce, 

Amonge  all  other  she  bare  great  price, 

For  sche  coude  tricke  it  point  device, 

But  fewe  like  her  in  that  countree. 


116  APPENDIX, 

At  the  laste  the  milner  untrewe, 

That  had  ben  beaten  bothe  blacke  and  blewe, 

His  owne  deede  he  gan  to  rewe  ; 

And  though  he  had  ben  false, 

For  many  a  trewer  than  he 

Was  judged  without  pite 

Upon  a  dreadfull  gallowe  tree 

To  be  hanged  by  the  halfe. 

But  sore  sicke  in  his  bedde 

All  his  life  he  ledde, 

That  he  was  faine  to  be  fedde 

Of  his  wife,  withouten  mis. 

Thus  with  shorte  conclusion, 

This  milner  through  his  abusion 

Was  brought  to  confusion 

For  all  his  falsehed  iwis ; 

And  ended  his  life  full  wretchedly, 

In  paine,  care,  and  misery ; 

Wherefore  he  did  beare  an  home. 

For  steeling  of  meale  this  onlie, 

His  wife  and  his  doughter  were  laine  by 

Of  two  poore  scolers  full  merely, 

That  oft  did  laugh  him  to  scorne. 

In  pacience  he  must  take  it  al, 

In  chamber,  in  bowre,  and  eke  in  hall, 

Whatsoever  the  folke  than  did  him  call, 

Contented  muste  he  be. 

Thus  endeth  this  mery  jest  iwis, 

And  Christe  that  is  kinge  of  eternall  blis 

Bringe  us  all  there  whan  his  will  is ! 

Amen  for  charite. 


FINIS. 


INDEX. 


Abelard,  46, 
at,  alle,  26, 

Anglo-Norman  words  mixed  with 
Latin  in  medieval  poetry,  43, 44, 

•—  berd,  to  make  a  clerkes,  a  proverb, 

30, 
Bishop  and  the  Priest,  fabliau  of 

the,  68, 

Blonde  of  Oxford,  romance  of,  74, 
Boccaccio,  the  Decameron,  14, 
Boryoingne,  toile  de,  61, 
Borjois  Borjon,  le,  57, 
Boston,  fair  of,  4, 
Botolfston  (Boston),  4, 
Bourgeoisie,  account  of  the,  55, 
boydekin,  24, 

cacchen,  cacche,  31, 
Campanum  merum,  48, 
Chance,  a  game  of,  76. 
Y.  Chaucer,  ballad  addressed  to  him 

by  Eustache  Deschamps,   13, 

his  tale  of  the  Miller  of  Trom- 

pington,  24, 

Clergy,  corruptions  of  the,  63,  66, 
Clerks,  character  of  this  class  of 

society,  66, 
Clers,  des,  a  poem,  66, 
cokenay,  34, 

Conde,  Baudoin  and  Jean  de,  74, 
Conybeare,  J.  J.,  95, 

Danger,  an  allegorical  personage, 

84, 

D'Avezac,  M.,  101, 
«—  Deschamps,  Eustache,  13, 
diamargariton,  47, 

e  final,  after  //,  24,  not  sounded 
before  a  vowel  or  h,  25,  31,  in 
the  infinitives  of  verbs,  28,  dis 
tinguishes  the  adverb  from  the 


adjective,  34,  frequently  omit 
ted  by  inaccurate  scribes,  35, 

Ebrardus,  45, 

Entheticus,  a  poem  by  John  of 
Salisbury,  45,  56, 

Fabliaux,  an  account  of  them,  1, 
fabliaux  translated  by  Chaucer, 
14. 

Fulmarus,  39, 

Games,  medieval,  74, 

garacios,  45, 

garamantes,  45, 

Geography,  a  Latin  metrical  trea 
tise  on,  101, 

goliardi,  38, 

Grammar,  held  in  great  repute 
in  the  middle  ages,  45, 

Grey,  the  favourite  colour  of 
ladies'  eyes,  26, 

harlots,  59, 

Hawks,  proverbs  relating  to,  32, 
Hoilande,  in  Lincolnshire,  88, 
Hostlesin  the  Universities,  56,57, 
Hunter,  Rev.  Joseph,  88, 

in,  inne,  28, 

Jogelour,  or  minstrel,  1,  99,  100, 
the  aged  jogelour,  a  poem,  100, 

Johan,  the  correct  old  form  of 
John,  27, 

John  of  Salisbury,  45,  56, 

Jubinal,  M.  Achille,  15,  54,  60, 
68,  76,  96, 

kyn,  kynne.  28, 

leccatores,  39,  42,  59, 
Lodgings,  letting  of,  in  the  middle 
ages,  56, 


INDEX. 


Love,  early  English  verses  on,  96, 

Mapes,  Walter,  38,  60, 

Michel,  M.,  53, 

Miller  and  the  two  Clerks,  fabliau 
of,  15, 

Miller  of  Abington,  story  of  the, 
105, 

Miller  of  Trompington,  by  Chau 
cer,  15,  24,  105, 

mimus,  100, 

Minstrel,  see  jogelour. 

Minstrels,  their  complaints  of  the 
change  in  the  times,  57, 

Ordericus  Vitalis,  52, 
Oriental  origin  of  the  medieval 
fabliaux,  1, 

panade,  24. 

Parasitic  caste  in  society,  39,  40, 
Paris,  M.  Paulin,  13, 
Pastoral  staff,  poem  on  the,  40, 
Peregrinus,  a  Latin  poem,  56, 
Peter  Alfonsi,  2, 
Peter  de  Blois,  45, 
Petersen,  professor,  45,  46, 
•  Philippus,  proverbial  verses  on,  51, 
Poets,  ancient,  considered  in  the 

light   of  philosophers    in    the 

middle  ages,  39, 
popper,  24, 
Putains  et  des  Lecheors,  des,  64, 

Quadrivium,  46, 

rage,  to,  25, 

ragman,  ragman  roll,  76,  81,  83, 
Renard  le  Contrefait,  29, 
Renaud  de  Hoilande,  the  author 

of  a  song,  88, 
ribaldi,  39,  59, 
Ribald's   Excommunication,  the, 

60, 
roi  qui  ne  ment,  let  the  name  of  a 

game,  74, 


Roman  de  la  Rose,  84, 

Satire,  a  general,  43,  Satire  on  the 
men  of  Stockton,  49,  frequently 
directed  against  the  clergy,  66, 

Scholastic  studies,  poem  on  the, 
44. 

seel,  unsely,  34, 

Secular  learning,  opposed  hy  the 
clergy,  44, 

Sender  batu,  fabliau  of,  74, 

•Siriz,  dame,  fabliau  of,  2, 

Society,  its  character  and  divisions 
in  the  middle  ages,  52,  licenci- 
ousness  of,  1,  74,  satirical  at 
tacks  on  the  different  classes, 
52, 

Soler  halle  of  Cantebregge,  26, 

Song  by  Renaud  de  Hoilande,  88, 
on  the  uncertainty  of  worldly 
affairs,  90,  on  the  times,  92,  on 
the  vanities  of  the  court,  94, 
the  Woodman's  walk,  95, 

Stephen  of  Orleans,  45, 

Stockton,  satire  on  the  men  of,  49, 

Trivium,  45, 

Tyrwhitt's  Chaucer  criticised,  23. 

^Universities,  foreign,  the  sons  of 
English  nobility  sent  to  them, 
38,  University  of  Paris,  44, 

Vilain  despensier,  le  Dit  du,  54, 
Villans,  or  serfs,  49,  52,  53, 
Vrihat-Katha,  an  Indian  collec 
tion  of  stories,  1 , 

Walter  de  Castellione,  46, 

weene,  37, 

Wolf  and  the  Mare,  fable  of  the, 

29, 
c.Women,  attacked  and  defended 

by  the  popular  writers  of  the 

middle  ages,  96,  97,  poem  in 

praise  of  them,  97, 


Printed  by  W.  A.  Wright, 
12,  Fulwood's  Rents,  Holborn,  London* 


ERRATA. 

p.  56,  1.  27,  for  censulere,  read,  consulere. 
p.  84,  1.  37,  for  vrgynite,  read,  vyrgynite. 
p.  89,  1.  I,  for  reconforte,  read,  reconforter. 


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